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lolita-lollipop · 10 months

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(EXTREMELY) SOFT! YANDERE AIZAWA X READER

(Request given through messages: reader who is embarrassed to tell Aizawa that they cannot sleep without a stuffed animal, as it was their comfort item throughout their childhood when their parents would fight. Eventually the reader is so exhausted that they break down and cry to him. Platonic please!)

Warnings: unmentioned stockholm syndrome, mentions of kidnapping, secondary insomnia ,yandere. You dictate what you read.

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He was always able to know when you were awake.

It was the one thing that came easily for him with you after he had taken you, the one thing he was always able to do. It was especially easy after he had moved you into his room, originally he moved you because of your most recent escape attempt, where you had actually managed to leave the house while he was sleeping, you had called the police. The call had only lasted a few moments, not even seconds before he had you roped up tightly…

But you had sounded alarmed enough to have the cops of the area in a frenzy, you sounded like the missing girl they'd been looking for for months. They had come knocking at his door the next morning, asking if he had seen or heard anything the previous night. Being a pro hero he was the last person they would even remotely suspect, so it was a quick “no”, a short visit. However, a long enough one that it had him reminded him of just how fragile your relationship was, and how you being kept on a loose leash wouldnt work.

So that night, he moved you up into his room, where you slept in his bed. With him. It took away all of your sense of freedom, your only private space, the room where you had some of your own stuff, your old stuff. You had actually ended up liking your room the most in this house, he had promised that it would be a safe space for you, somewhere he would let you enjoy yourself, with the little tv and toys that he knew you liked. He also usually would let you have your alone time when you were in your room. You liked that most of all.

He was actually able to learn so much more about you than he ever had before. Sure, he had watched you sleep plenty of times before, but it had only ever been from afar. Or through the cameras in your room. Never had he been this close. Close enough to notice your habits, and what you do. The biggest thing being: you barely were able to sleep. Ever. Maybe he was just too far away to notice it before, or maybe your lack of sleep started when he took you. The thought of that made his heart heavy.

You tried, he knew that much. Every night, you would lie down in bed, on the edge as far away as you could possibly get from him, curl up, and close your eyes. And every night the same, you would squirm, and sigh, and inevitably stay fully awake and aware all night. He pretended not to notice, as you never said anything about it and were clearly closed off to conversation about it. He couldn't help you unless you asked, otherwise, you'd get upset, he had learned that the hard way.

But he saw what your sleeping habits did to you, he should've seen it so much sooner. How you trudged around the house like there were a hundred pounds heavy on your shoulders, how the purple under your eyes just got deeper and deeper as the days passed by. You were tired, but you couldn't sleep. Eventually, after a few weeks, you stopped trying entirely, instead sitting at the edge of the bed with that far-off look in your eyes.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that you would cry, but he knew how embarrassed you could get with him, how shy you were, especially when it was about your feelings, which you generally kept to yourself.

It was always bad, but it was never this bad.

The night had started like it normally did, with him helping you with taking your vitamins after dinner, then he read you a story like he always did. After this, like every night, he tucked you in his bed, giving you the extra fluffy blanket that you liked (as you run much colder than he did), and went to get in his pajamas, leaving you alone. He only took his eyes off of you for a few minutes, long enough for him to tie his hair back and get ready for bed.

But immediately after leaving the room, he could hear you crying. He liked that the walls were thin, because he could hear everything and anything at al times l. Your cries were muffled, soft, and pained in the same way you always were. But loud enough that he was automatically put into panic mode.

Making a full sprint back into the room, he was met with the sight of you, curled up in a ball sitting on the shiny wooden floor with your knees held tight to your chest. Crying, but not the loud obnoxious crying he'd seen from villains before who just wanted sympathy, this was guttural, dripping in melancholy. He saw the way your fingernails dig into the skin of your knees, you were holding yourself too tightly. How awful.

“Baby? What's wrong? Oh god come here honey- it's okay.” immediately the burly man was on top of you, pulling his muscular arm under your knees and back, and lifting you off the floor. You were shaking like a leaf, shivering with every sob that left your mouth. Unlike most times when he tried to comfort you and you would squirm like a cat and howl like a banshee, this time you just cried into his chest, melting in his arms and letting your tears stain his shirt. Your hand clutched at his long hair, twirling it in your fingers, quivering.

“What's going on? I've noticed you've been a bit… down.” He spoke, pulling you in closer and sticking his face in your hair, kissing your head, and swiping your hair from your face. You just wrapped your arms around his neck, sticking your head into the nook of his shoulder. He always smelled the same, like some crisp orange smell with something deeper mixed with it, you grew to hate it and love it at the same time. You quieted your cries slowly, mustering up any resolve or courage you had in your system to try and talk to him.

“I- uhm- It's embarrassing,” you muttered into his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax into him.

“Oh? What is? You can trust me, baby, I won't tell anybody.” He cooed, continuing to cup your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. Your answer had piqued his interest, yes, you had always been closed off and embarrassed about yourself around him. Even before he had taken you, you were his student, the one who was quiet and reserved, you sat in the back of the classroom and were well likable to all the other students. He could never tell what you were thinking, you kept your head down and only answered questions when called on with that timid voice of yours that he loved. But today your voice was wavering, exhausted.

“I’m just so tired. And- It's because- I just can’t- uhm- i-” Your breathing became heavy and fast, tears re-clouding your eyes. You couldn't remember the last time you'd actually cried this way, at least not with a man like Aizawa, especially not with your teacher. You met his gaze for a few seconds, staring into the way they crinkled with both age and kindness. He urged you to go on, raising a brow. God, when had you become so trusting of him?

“I can't sleep without my bunny” you rushed out, immediately breaking your gaze and flushing, oh my god what kind of idiot were you? How pathetic was it that you, a college student, couldn't manage to sleep without the help of a stuffed animal? You knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot, the way your parents used to all the time. You thought he was judging you, thinking you were pathetic, stupid.

But it couldn't be more different. Oh. my. God. you were absolutely the cutest thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. He could remember seeing that bunny in your arms now that he thought about it, when he would watch over your house while you would sleep to make sure nothing happened, you were always holding that bunny. But he had stupidly not grabbed it when he took you, instead opting for a teddy bear. How absolutely precious could you be? His awed silenced only made you feel worse.

“I- I know it's stupid- it's just since I was a kid I had trouble sleeping because my parents- my parents would fight and it was the only thing-” You took a long- shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down “-the only thing that would help me- don't be mad please I know it's dumb” You cried out, burying your head as deep into his shoulder as you could. You wanted to disappear right now. You should've just stayed quiet, oh he was judging you for sure. What kind of idiot were you? You knew that he-

“Oh my god, you are the cutest thing arent you? Baby, why didn't you tell me sooner? I knew you weren't sleeping well but I didn't know this was why. I would've been happy to get it for you, it's not embarrassing at all” he spoke, cupping your teary-eyed face and pulling it out from his shoulder, he pressed a firm kiss on your forehead and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You just sniffled and leaned in, too tired to care about anything other than the fact that he was warm and nice.

“ look hon- ill get it for you soon I promise, but we live too far for me to go tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Can we try something though? Is that okay?” he was talking so softly to you now, so kindly. Usually, you would've been suspicious of his actions, being that it was extremely different from how you'd seen him in the classroom. But your brain had essentially turned to mush the past few weeks, and you were far too exhausted to care. You nodded, staring up at him with glossy eyes, what was he planning?

“It's nothing bad. Just relax, close your eyes.” the sturdy man commanded, cupping your head as he lifted himself, along with you, off the floor again. He squeezed you tight as he made his way across the room, grabbing your fuzzy blanket before settling into the bed, you pressed firmly against his chest. You were small in comparison to him. Small enough to fit on top of him comfortably. He settled under the blanket and wrapped his arms around your waist, staring at you with those loving grey eyes he had throughout the entire process.

Staring up at him in confusion for a few moments at what he was doing , you managed to let out a small “Huh?” before he shushed you, and tightened his grip. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders, he slipped his hand up and down your back, drawing small circles around and around, leaving a tingling sensation to rack down your spine. He had you melting like putty in his arms.

“Just relax baby, Ill protect you from everything there is. Just try and sleep okay? I'm here.” At his words, you sank into his chest, letting your cheek squish on him. He usually wasn't affectionate, this was very likely for your own benefit now that you think about it, as you had obvious discomfort with being touched (due to your complete lack of physical affection growing up).

But this… his touch alone sent warm waves through your heart, this was so comfortable, so soft. So warm. The way his breathing lifted you up and down with every breath he took, the way the circles he was placed on your back melted your bones, how the blanket was so soft, how he was so soft. It was so… comfortable. The exhaustion that had built up over the past few weeks settled in the front of your head, weighing your eyelids closed. Before you knew it you had your hand clutched tightly around his shirt, and you were dozed off, letting little mutters and snores leave your mouth as you slipped into a deep sleep.

Oh, you were just so precious. He genuinely didn't think that you could be any more fragile than what he had previously believed. However, he was so so so wrong. You couldn't complete your life functions without the help of a plush-filled bunny. How cute was that? It just made him feel more attached, you were so helpless. Too innocent for your own good. You would never have to deal with anything that would require the help of your bunny anymore.

He would make sure of it

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I love how I’m writing about insomnia as it is five in the morning and I haven’t slept yet🤪

Anywya the anon who requested this wanted to remain anonymous but Ily for requesting his! Thanks!

Also thanks to those reading right now, ily too!

Anyways tell me what you think, it very likely hs many grammatical errors that I will not be fixing. I’m gonna sleep now goodnight!

Have a great day! Bye!

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pealingpetals · 1 year

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wish you were here

#aka the au where nothing is okay and everything hurts: canon #i made an entire playlist that's just mic and aizawa feeling bad about oboro for this piece #plz cut them some fucking slack horikoshi #fanart #my art #bnha #bnha fanart #shirakumo oboro #oboro shirakumo #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #aizawa #shouta aizawa #rooftop trio #erasermic #erasercloud #erasercloudmic #cloudmic

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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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plusultraetc · 1 month

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you know the drill, I'm still thinking about this post and it's been awhile since I had an emotion about this, but seriously what's the deal with Aizawa being narratively surrounded by characters who were "born bad" because of their powers. Eri is the most obvious example (again!! this post!!), but then there's Shigaraki as her parallel character who, omg, has respect for one (1) hero and it's Eraserhead. look further, and there's Shinsou, whose entire motivation is proving that he can be a hero in spite of what people call a villainous quirk. if you want to reach for the stars, Present Mic was born with his quirk and immediately deafened not only his parents but the doctor who was present, probably some nurses too. objectively this is a bad thing. something something inherently "bad" powers surrounding Aizawa whose power it is to take other people's quirks away. I'm taking it, I'm running with it, I'm like a Swedish cow put out to pasture after a long winter in the barn

#there are so many things i am supposed to be doing rn but just. it's literally A PART of HIS STORYLINE #to look after eri in case her quirk hurts someone by accident. thematically insane #aizawa shouta #can you make a web weave out of this? buddy we're about to find out #after i get to All The Other Web Weaves. or maybe before. no one is less sure than i am.#liza blather #liza watches mha

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ghostxrose · 3 months

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Nicotine | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Summary ~ When you started dating Shota, you knew what you were signing up for. What you didn’t expect to happen was for everything between you both to come crumbling down, leaving you pinned beneath the rubble and Shota not even realizing it.

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW content, Inspired by Nicotine by Panic at the Disco, hurt no comfort, angst, failed relationship, past relationship neglect, cursing, break up, sad ending, use of Y/N

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, I wrote this one night when I was craving some angst, lol. I did include some of the lyrics from Nicotine, sorry if it's cringe. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the read? It is very angst forward so.. I don't know.. trigger warning..? Love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

You had shown up to his apartment not long after he called..

Again.

As soon as you were through the door, the two of you had dove right into sloppily making out and pawing off each other’s clothing..

Again.

You two had taken your heaving chests, kiss bitten lips, panted moans, and lust heated bodies straight to his bedroom without having a proper conversation beforehand..

Again!

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm taking over your mind, as Shota gives one last thrust and groans into your mouth in one last open-mouthed sloppy kiss as he cums. He stays on top of you for a moment, lazily making out with you, before he slowly pulls out and flops onto his back next to you.

As you both lay there panting and coming down from your highs you close your eyes. Shota slowly gets up, tying off the condom and heading to the bathroom to throw it away and clean himself up.

The post-orgasm clarity hits you and the feeling of disappointment fills you as you sit up. You let out a heavy sigh as you rub your hands over your still flushed face and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes scan the floor for your clothes, more negative and heavy emotions stacking themselves on top of the disappointment. Collecting your clothes from off of the floor, you start to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” Shota asks from the doorway of the bathroom, startling you a bit.

You don’t turn around to face him because you know that his face is either it’s usual tired disinterest or it’s occasional tired confusion.

“I’m getting dressed.” You state, attempting to make your tone blank and void of emotion.

“That much was obvious, (Y/N). Why are you getting dressed?” He says, his tone slightly more irritated than normal.

“This was a mistake, Shota.” You bite out, already feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

You feel the bed dip behind you and hear Shota let out an exasperated breath as he sits down heavily.

“You said that the last three times we.. did this. I don’t understand what the problem i-”

“The problem is that we are stuck in this horrible on and off situation, Shota. I.. I can’t do it anymore..” You say, cutting him off and trying so desperately to keep your tone controlled and even.

“The only reason we’re ‘on and off’ is because you thought that being with a Pro Hero who also teaches full-time would be a walk in the fucking park, (Y/N).” Shota angrily spits, both of you still sitting with your backs facing each other.

A bitter rage floods your body and you lose the will to hold back any longer, “I never thought that, Shota! I knew it would be difficult but I was ready to put in the effort required to make it fucking work! I poured so much effort int-”

“I did, t-” Shota’s raised voice cut you off but you only let him get those couple of words out before doing the same.

“In the beginning you did, yes! But where did it go, Shota?!” You yell, turning around to face him.

“(Y/N)..” He growls out but you don’t let him get any further, once again, as everything that you’ve been trying to bury bubbles out of you.

“It’s been a year since our last date! A fucking year! All we do anymore is sleep, fuck, and go to work! I can barely remember the last meal we shared together! I fucking understood what it was that I had signed up for but it got to a point where I didn’t even feel like we were in a relationship anymore!” You continue yelling, your whole body heated from anger and tears streaming down your face.

“Y- you’re.. You’re worse than nicotine, Shota! I keep telling myself ‘one more hit and then we’re through’ but I can’t fucking stay away from you! It’s like I can constantly taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you! Every single day, whether I’m with or without you, fucking hurts!” Your yells crumble into choked sobs and you bury your face into your hands.

Shota is standing across from you, the bed between you both, just staring at you in silence. His eyes are the slightest bit shiny, his face is scrunched up as if he is in pain, and it’s the most emotion that you’ve seen on his face in a year. His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out. You compose yourself enough to look up at him with a heated glare.

“Did you even love me back the same way I loved you, Shota?” You ask bitterly. You’re met with more silence and nod your head with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“We’re done for real this time, Aizawa. Don’t fucking call me again.” You spit out as you gather the rest of your stuff and make your way out of his apartment.

You sit in your car for a few minutes screaming and choking on hard sobs over the pain of your heart shattering. “This was the last fucking time!! I fucking swear it!!” You scream at your steering wheel, praying to any and every higher power that may be out there to give you the strength to resist getting one more fucking hit.

Note ~ Someone please tell me that I am not the only one who will actively seek out angst, sometimes.. Is it healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to look for or write angst? Yes. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love! My amazing Lovelies, I love and appreciate all of you! <3

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #angst #aizawa smut #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead smut #hurt/angst #no comfort #breakup #failed relationship #bnha #mha #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x you

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decarbry · 1 year

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a frequent visitor

#boku no hero academia fanart #Yabureme Aizawa AU #nomu aizawa #shouta aizawa #principal nezu #this is a response to an anon but it had a second prompt so I didn't want to answer it and then forget about the second one #but ya Nezu is one of the faculty that comes by super often when Yabureme is in Tartarus #there's always been a powerful mutual trust between these two before he was taken and Nezu only wants to help #the first time Yabureme is in Tartarus he is completely unresponsive but Nezu visits him every few days anyway in an effort to get #a response out of him. it doesn't work #but during his second stint in Tartarus he's more lucid and Nezu becomes a huge comfort as Aizawa is rediscovering himself #he's the reason Aizawa eventually relents and agrees to see his class again. he is totally resistant to the idea bc he knows he hurt them #MULTIPLE times. plus he was barely their teacher so he shouldn't be that big of a deal to them right? they knew him for like a week #when Yabuzawa is his own free agent again Nezu helps him bear the weight of his trauma and they bond over shared experiences as experiments #canon Nezu and Aizawa are cute and funny and wholesome bc of the whole cuddle-in-the-scarf thing but it's way deeper than that #Nezu is one of the only ones that Aizawa knew respected him for his abilities as a teacher vs just his useful quirk. Nezu gave him his job #and believed in him so much that he let him do whatever he wanted in pursuit of teaching students who would live longer #and less foolishly. Nezu/Aizawa are friends and value each other a great deal thanks xoxoxo

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akashigadabi · 1 year

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Premise: It’s just after USJ and you’re going to see Shouta in hospital. Heaven help anyone who stands in your way.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: It’s just after the USJ incident, and for some reason no one but Hizashi remembers to call you and tell you Shouta’s in the hospital. Anyone who tries to keep you from him is getting bitten.

Fuck fuck fuck. Where was Shouta? Your mind can only tumble between equally frantic thoughts while the receptionist takes her sweet time to give you his room number. It’s been agony waiting for them to finish their treatment plan, especially when they should have consulted you anyway. You’ll just have to make do with what’s left, you suppose, even if it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Once you get to his floor, however, a nurse sitting at the station stands and moves to stop you.

“Miss—”

“Let me through!”

You know the nurse is just doing her job, but right now you just want to strangle her. With how frazzled you feel, you just might. Then she just has to push it by touching your arm, and it takes everything in you not to bite her hand. You were a little feral, just like Shouta, but you never had your lover’s hero shtick to help redirect your impulses.

“Forgive me, but we cannot allow—”

“I said let me through. I’m his wife, godsdamnit!”

You don’t succeed in not snapping her head off, but she takes it well enough. Instead of getting offended, she nods and asks for a patient name.

“Aizawa Shouta.”

“Oh, I know that one. That teacher. I helped bandage him earlier. Follow me.”

You’re practically a nervous wreck as you follow her through the ward. The anticipation and anxiety make your heart beat like a scared rabbit, and all you can do is imagine the worst. It bothers you that no one but Hizashi called to let you know Shouta’s status, but then again, perhaps it had only slipped their minds in all the chaos. Perhaps that assumption was generous.

After all, they have to know you’re one of his immediate emergency contacts. They have to know they need to call you if he’s become badly injured because of your Quirk. You aren’t a Pro Hero, but there are other licenses, certificates, and permits that allow someone to use their Quirk. Anything from Certified Work Permits to Investigative Licenses to Limited Competency Certifications exist for those who wish to use applicable Quirks within certain scopes.

Your specific situation involves having a Restriction Level One Compassionate Healing License. It means that you can use your Quirk on others, even in public, regardless of if the situation is as mild as a sprained ankle or as critical as a skull fracture. Unlike Recovery Girl, your Quirk doesn’t use the patient’s stamina, so you don’t need them to be well-rested or a mild case, or to wait for them to recover somewhat first. Being a doctor or a Hero didn’t suit you, so this seems like the next best alternative. Especially since the government and HPSC recognize how difficult it often is to keep healers from assisting someone injured or dying in front of them and how disastrous it would be to punish said healers, especially if the public got wind of it. So they offer an alternative. Those with healing Quirks who don’t wish to become medical professionals or Pro Heroes full or part time can instead choose to obtain a Compassionate Healing License, ranging from Restriction Level Five to Zero. Level Five had the most restrictions, while Zero had none. It basically meant there were no restrictions on how you could use your Quirk to heal, both in consideration of its natural limitations, and in consideration of its legal ones.

By the time you arrive at his room, you’re ready to collapse from stress, but you have just enough presence of mind to thank the nurse as you lurch into the room. Of course, it’s worse than you thought. He’s bandaged from head to toe, doing a remarkable impression of a mummy. He looks almost like a broken doll lying there, and it breaks something inside of you to see him like that. You sink into the chair next to his bed, barely noticing Hizashi’s jacket that he wears when he wants to be lowkey off-duty.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper with tears in your eyes. “What did they do to you?”

You don’t expect your idiot (not really) husband to answer you then, sounding like he’s on death’s doorstep for a casual nap instead of his dire straights.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, so it’s just a flesh wound?”

“It’s—”

“Shut up, you insufferable man. You almost died. Let me fuss over you.”

Your hands shake as you uselessly smooth the blankets on his bed. You want to touch him, to reassure yourself of his continued existence if nothing else, but you don’t want to risk hurting him. You haven’t used your Quirk on him yet to ease his pain or wounds. The way it works was that the more positive emotions you felt, the more you could heal. If you felt positive emotions about the patient, even better. Even neutral emotions worked for adequate healing in a pinch. If you needed to “fake it” to heal someone, you could focus on a positive memory or something with positive emotions attached to it to coax your Quirk into healing the way you wanted it to. It sort of reminded you of how people made a Patronus in that one Pre-Quirk book series. Shame the author was some hateful hag, but at least no one has to see her post Chirps. (Chirper replaced Twitter in the last stages of the Pre-Quirk Era, and she’s been dead for the last three hundred years, so no worries there.)

Shouta grumbles but allows your still-trembling hands to flutter over his form, hovering without touching.

“They said I’ll make a full recovery,” he tries again, attempting to soothe you. “You probably don’t even need to use your Quirk. We could just wait for Recovery Girl to—”

You interrupted with a put-upon little huff.

“Why would I let you suffer when I can fix some of it now?”

“Silly woman.”

“Infuriating man.”

Your fake glaring contest lasts for all of five seconds before he sighs and relents. “Fine. Get it over with, then. But you’re the one comforting Hizashi if this wears you out.”

“It won’t. I worked out that the more I love someone, the less energy it takes. Now hold still.”

You reach for his eyes first, because you know how much he needs them for his Quirk and in your Quirk sense, they’re an angry blood red. You don’t know how they look since they’re bandaged, too, but you gather it’s not pretty. Any damage to his eye socket or orbital floor would be hell for his career. Not because being Quirkless was such a terrible fate, but because without it, he’d be vulnerable. Even as an Underground Hero, people recognize him, and if they know he couldn’t use his Quirk properly—or at all—anymore, they’d take advantage of that. They’d see it as a weakness, and in a way it was if they knew he couldn’t rely on Quirk cancellation in his fights. He might fight mostly Quirkless, but Erasure still gave him an advantage.

Only a fool would insist otherwise.

He sighs in relief the moment your energy enters him, flowing into his eyes first, then into the rest of his head to ease the migraine he has. Whether it’s due to his injury, the medications used for surgery, a general lack of sleep, or some combination you have no idea. In hindsight, after you’ve chased away the majority of the pain and swelling, you readjust your assessment to include a concussion and skull fracture in the list of injuries. How lovely, a sarcastic part of your brain mutters as you berate yourself for losing sight of the forest for the trees in your rush to scrub away his pain. On the other hand, the concussion and skull fracture are irrelevant, gone like a flash of sunlight on a rainy day. Frankly, you don’t care. It all hurts him, so you get rid of it. Every single layer down to the last.

His lip, which had busted before he bit through it, also healed, as did his broken nose and a deep gash under his eye, though they might both scar. His scalp healed too. Someone had yanked on his hair hard enough to rip a chunk of it out, and you could almost feel the echo of it throbbing despite the pain easing. It made you furious to know someone had hurt him so badly. It made you ache, too, as if you’re the one laying in bed beaten to a pulp.

Next you heal his arms. One at a time, of course. You start with the one closest to you. A crease grows on your brow as you register the shade—still an angry red, but a shade lighter. His entire body glows like a red star, flickering in various hues of the color that spells danger for the one enduring the wounds. It’s not until your power flows into his arm that you discover the horrifying truth. Fuck the sprinkling of bruises and the little nicks. His arm is broken in five different places, which explains the glare of red bathing your second sight. You sigh from the depths of exasperation, because of course this absolutely insufferable man with no good sense of self-preservation manages to have his arm broken in five places.

“Why does it feel like you’re glaring at me?”

Of course your bastard sounds like he’s amused and apprehensive in equal measure, you think fondly even as you contemplate tying him up in his own capture scarf so he can’t get himself so damaged again.

“Probably because I am. How did you manage to get your arm broken in five different places, Shou?”

“He what?!”

Hizashi’s alarmed cry comes from the doorway. You turn to glare at him, because really? This is a hospital for fuck’s sake! People are trying to heal!

“Hizashi, you know I love you, but if the next sound out of your mouth is another screech, I’ll toss you out of the window myself.”

“And I’ll help,” Shouta added gruffly.

You flick your finger at his already healed cheek.

“No the fuck you won’t, mister! You shouldn’t even be moving yet, let alone throwing Hizashi’s loud ass through a window.”

“Sorry,” Hizashi apologized as he shuffled into the room and closed the door. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“That’s like asking a cat not to be an asshole,” you mutter as you turn back around, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” from Hizashi as you set to work again.

Undeterred, the inappropriately energetic man sidles up to your side. Not close enough to get in the way, but definitely close enough to watch you work. It’s a delicate process. Even with all the love you have for Shouta, it takes fierce concentration. Mostly due to all the fine-tuned control you need for the seemingly endless fiddly bits. You sit back once you’re done with his arm and massage your temples. Only Shouta, you think again. Only Shouta.

“Your arm is healed, but your wrist and two of your fingers are broken too.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath at your side, and oh yeah, Hizashi’s here too, isn’t he? You’d nearly forgotten since you’d had to block him out to focus. Funny, that. At least Shouta’s arm isn’t hurting him now, though the fact that the other has also been set doesn’t feel particularly promising.

“In addition to the five breaks on his arm?”

“Yes, and some bruising and small cuts. I’ll fix the wrist and fingers then move to his other side. Once I do, it should be safe to touch his face and this limb. Do not touch anything else unless I say otherwise, got it? We don’t wanna hurt him more by aggravating his injuries.”

“Right. I can do that. I’ll hold his hand once you finish doing your thing.”

Without any further discussion, you dive right back into the healing session. Even though your Quirk isn’t directly tied to your stamina, like an inverse of Recovery Girl’s, you can still get tired. The mental and emotional exhaustion that can lead to a period of brain fog or numbness, like the kind that comes after a good cry—or even a short bought of depression in extreme cases—isn’t a cakewalk just because you can often otherwise function as normal. Still, Shouta’s worth the backlash, and you can always sleep it off. You heal his wrist and his fingers as promised, then pause and frown because while the halo of his arm has cooled to a healthier pink as it repairs itself, his ribs scream at you.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Ribs.”

It comes out as a grunt. You don’t care, just reach out to brush your fingers over them. Some are bruised, and some are cracked. Ribs can be bandaged, but not properly set. You probe around with your power to make sure they haven’t punctured anything, then cut off the flow of energy.

“How many?” Hizashi asks when you stand.

“Enough.”

His hand grips Shouta’s like a lifeline as you round the bed, pausing to correct the damage you see as you go. “Sprained ankles.”

“Shouta,” you hear the blond murmur as you heal a nasty bruise on his leg that feels suspiciously like the outline of a boot. Ouch. Definitely from a kick. The broken blood vessels sing in relief at your touch.

“He’ll live, Zashi.”

He’s got another three breaks on this arm that’s speckled with bruises, another broken finger, and huh. A broken clavicle. You list aloud the injuries as you caress each one, sending warm waves of healing energy through them. You heal the nasty scratch on his neck, too, and the random thigh muscle he somehow pulled. That seems like the worst of it, aside from the hodgepodge of bruised organs that includes his spleen, his liver, and both kidneys, and a bruised abdomen. Thankfully he has no internal bleeding, but he’d have been sore for a while otherwise.

By the time you finish, you feel a little numb, but only just. It seems to have messed with your emotions again in a limited capacity. The closest you can feel to happiness at the moment is bitter relief, though the love you have for him never fades even when you get these spells. They’re temporary, and part of this may be due to stress instead of just being induced by your Quirk backlash.

Mostly you feel tired, like you’ve been crying for a long time and can’t cry anymore but on a low level. It’s a largerly emotionally drained feeling mixed with the barest hint of brain fog. You don’t heal all the time, after all, not like Recovery Girl or some of the Quirked doctors. Even when you do, it’s not often to this extent. You don’t always have to push yourself so much, but now you feel as if you should. Quirk training might just save Shouta’s life one day.

You’d never forgive yourself if he needed you but you were too weak to heal him.

“Is it done, then?”

“It’s done. Give it an hour before you start taking off all his casts and bandaging, though.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

You shrug.

“I’m taking a nap.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Shouta to sleep off your backlash. Hizashi doesn’t protest. Smart man, that one. Anyone who tries to pry you away from Shouta’s side right now still stands a high chance of getting bitten. Hizashi must like having both of his hands. Good.

#aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x you #hurt/comfort #fluff and hurt/comfort #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and humor #fluff and angst #fluff and humor #usj arc #unforeseen situation joint arc #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #aizawa fanfiction #Eraserhead FanFiction

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sassypantsjaxon · 9 months

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What kind of hero is Present Mic?

So we know there are different categories a hero could be placed under depending on what kind of work they specialize in (Aizawa’s an underground hero, 13 is a rescue hero, etc, etc) But for the most part, most heroes seem to just be do-it-all basic heroes. And that seems to be the category Mic falls under. But was that always what he intended for himself?

For the answer to that, we’re going to go back to Vigilantes. Granted, the arc is actually about Aizawa, but unless the main series gives a flashback to Mic’s earlier life, it’s the best insight we have for him. Since the arc is centered around Aizawa and how lost he felt, it doesn’t focus a lot on Mic or Oboro’s thoughts and feelings, but one of the things used to show how directionless Aizawa was is his lack of a work study. Again, this is Aizawa’s story, but given that Hizashi and Oboro also don’t have work studies, I think there’s a good chance they were just as directionless as he was.

So let’s talk about Hizashi. He’s the first of the three to get his work study, he’s recruited by the battle-oriented Buster Union due to his powerful quirk. Hizashi’s stated to be skilled at all parts of hero work, but Shota and Oboro are both still surprised that he would go with that and question if he’s cut out for being a fighter.

So, despite his powerful quirk that has him singled out by a powerhouse team, if he’s not a fighter, then what is he?

Given that he’s front and center for rescue training, I’m guessing that was originally his specialty. It’s not that surprising, he’s friendly, cooperative, and personable, probably good at crowd control, and his Voice is well suited for evacuations. So then how come we rarely get to see him use his quirk that way? How come we’ve only seen him do crowd control once in Vigilantes and an evacuation in the third movie? His return to the Buster Union, screaming down the intruders at the USJ, cracking open Shigaraki’s tank, we don’t actually get to see him in action that often compared to some heroes, but every time we do, he’s in more of a fighter’s position than a rescuers.

So why? What happened to make him give up on becoming a rescue hero and become a fighter instead?

Simple. As a regular fighting hero he can just scream at villains and DJ punch evil doctors and put away bad guys and call it a day. As a rescue hero he would actually have to save people. And he just doesn’t think he’s very good at that anymore.

#bnha #my hero academia #present mic #yamada hizashi #shouta aizawa #oboro shirakumo #...i'm really really sorry about that last point it hurt me to write it as much as it hurt you to read it #but i also think this would tie in to why he would choose present as in 'i am here' as part of his hero name #these are just my thoughts and headcanons #feel free to discuss #no really. let's talk about the guilt he must feel from not being able to prevent his friend's deaths and near-deaths

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ravenrissa · 8 months

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The Aizawas

(Part of the Aizawa-Yamada Family series)

When a villain attack occurs during a family outing in town, Present Mic and Eraserhead jump into action to save lives, leaving Hitoshi to stay back and stay safe. He gets lost in the rushing crowd, however, and ends up bumping into a couple who look eerily like Shouta...

Shouta is extremely resistant to the idea of his parents entering his adopted son's life. They were absent, neglectful parents who left Shouta to fend for himself growing up so they wouldn't have to be parents. He has sworn since the day he began fostering (and later adopted) Hitoshi that he would do everything that his own parents did not, being present in his son's life and letting him know he is loved, so when his parents announce that they want to built a relationship with not only his son, but him as well, Shouta is against the idea. But Hitoshi sees the conflict in his Dad's eyes, knowing that despite outwardly being stoic and indifferent to the situation, he's hurting inside, and sets about trying to make things right in this tense situation.

Read it here.

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piedpiperart · 1 year

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Cat Cafe pt 5

Part four

part six

#for those confused Izuku has to turn human for a lil bit otherwise he can be hurt #Aizawa thinks hes a homeless kid and tries to help #eventually wants to adopt him #cat cafe comic

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pinkykats-place · 2 years

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SFW BNHA fanfics x male reader

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Art not mine - artist KADEART

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please like, comment and/or reblog their work!

Wait...You're Married??

Aizawa x ProHero!Male!Reader {Fluff}

Summary: Class 1-A finds out that their favorite teacher is married...

Love Trigger

Shinso Hitoshi x Male!Reader

Angst to Fluff

Alpha Aizawa x male Omega Reader

Summary: Alpha Aizawa forgets something important at home so his darling mate brings it to him.

Bakusquad (platonic) w/ male reader

Summary: Reader gets some bad news and tries to cope alone.

Confession

Iida Tenya x Male!Reader

Kiri and the Ice Boy

Quick Story and Headcannons

Kirishima x Male Reader

Cold Stone Short Circuit

Kaminari x serious male reader

Klutz

Clumsy Reader paired with Shoto & Shinso (separate)

Meant To Be

Todoroki Shoto x Male!Reader

Summary: Class 1a gets a new boy; he’s closeted gay. After a while he gets close to todoroki and one night he’s really worked up/emotional so he goes to him but accidentally admits he’s into guys.

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shakarian101 · 5 months

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Mha Text Thread: Dadzawa x Student Reader: Aizawa helps you after your parents kick you out.

~ Parental abuse/abandonment

~ Aizawa being a Dad to his student

~ Hurt/comfort

~ Not a relationship!!!

~ Gender Neutral

#my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha texts #mha x reader #aizawa shouta #dadzawa #aizawa x reader #hurt/comfort

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aikrus · 5 months

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Don’t Let Me Fall (Too Far From Grace)

+ * ⊹ 　 °. * ✧ + * 　 ⊹ 　 °. * ✧ + * ⊹ ° . * ✧

+ * ⊹ °. * ✧ + * 　 ⊹ 　 °. * ✧ + * ⊹ ° . * ✧

cw: Major religious trauma for Y/n, enjoy. Swears, violence, cults, misogyny, self-mutilation, public abuse, parental abuse, attempted murder, self-defense, poison

A/n: a short glimpse into the makings of dadzawa; with an angsty Y/n religious quirk struggle

summary: There’s a part of Shouta that hates his job. While he can handle the annoying brats, unstable quirks, rude comments, life-threatening danger, and annoying hours, there’s just some things not even Shouta could tolerate. There’s a girl in his class. She’s nice but a little too quiet for it to sit right. He’s a teacher, been one for years and was a hero for much longer-- He knows the signs when he sees them.

+ * ⊹ °. * ✧ + * 　 ⊹ 　 °. * ✧ + * ⊹ ° . * ✧

“Brother Haruka,”

“Father Y/l/n; it’s always a pleasure.” Clasped forearms greeted one another, eye to eye they examined the other. Smiles filled each room and yet the tension was so thick, thick, thick; she looked to her mother but found a void in her place.

It crept into Y/n’s throat like sludge, chocking on the breath that filled her lungs as she swallowed for the fiftieth time that service. The eyes that followed, the eyes that glared, the eyes that widened, all at her, at her, at her. She kept her head down.

The family of five- a strong pastor father, the beautiful but sickly motherly wife, the silent eldest son, and the perfect youngest daughter. And Y/n, lost somewhere in the mess of facades they seemed to exchange so rapidly.

Or maybe lost was the wrong word, seeing as everyone could find her, the daughter of the pastor, the picture-perfect symbol of what they stood for, quirkless, pure, devine; up until four months ago.

Four months ago, when her world changed.

1-A kept a keen eye on Y/n, her silent passing and downcast eyes demanded attention from the rowdy bunch, but it was her appearance that caught them off guard the most.

Denki had asked about them once, resulting in a panic attack and mute classmate which lasted a week before she would speak in a quiet, fragile tone. It got worse before it got better.

She could feel them-- the eyes, eyes, eyes. Following her, ridiculing her, judging her. It broke Shouta’s heart.

“She’s just a girl, our little girl,”

“It’s a heathen!”

“She’s done nothing wrong,”

“It’s got horns god bless me!”

“Dear, she’s still our Y/n, our little angel,”

Her knees were pulled to her chest, listening silently at the top of the stairs to the hushed and not so hidden argument of her parents. Y/n’s father damning her, and her mom, desperately trying to cling to her life.

“That thing’s no angel-- it’s the devil.”

“What are you doing out here, kid?” Aizawa cringed inside watching the girls entire body stiffen.

“I’m sorry sir, I'll go back inside.” Her wide eyes became fixed on the floor, shoulders slouched but still full of twisted anxiety.

“You’re not in trouble, Y/l/n.”

“I’m not?” Her face stayed down, but she was finally looking directly at him, so Shouta counted this as a win.

“No,” he walked to the railing she had previously been leaning against, “There’s no rules against being on the rooftop. I just thought you might get cold.” He gestured to her head when he said that, causing her to flinch softly.

“I see.”

She still scurried away, leaving the concerned teacher by himself on the rooftop.

The horns that began to grew from the front corners of Y/n’s skull had been easily hideable when she noticed the growths. She teased her hair, wore headbands, dawned a head-scarf for modesty, but then her sister accidentally pulled it off her head during dinner, exposing them to the entire family.

That was the first night Emi had crawled into Y/n’s bed and cried since she was six and saw her big sister be punished for the first time. Punished.

The Shinja were many things, devote, united, pure, and forgiving. They believed in one thing above all else, God’s eternal and limitless magnanimity. For a sin their must be penitence, must be a beg for forgiveness.

For Y/n, this meant one thing.

It started small, Y/n found a scarf waiting for her on the railing when she made her way to the roof that night. It was nice, it was warm; something Y/n struggled with being.

Then Aizawa would stop by when it turned past midnight, sending the quiet girl back inside to stop her from catching a cold. And now, they coexist.

“Was--” she paused before shaking her head, looking back out to the grounds behind UA.

“What is it, kid?” He paused for an answer before breaking, “You can ask questions you know.”

“Was Iida right?”

Silence.

“That’s really up to you. At the end of the day, you decide what kind of hero you want to be. Your hero uniform is a big part of that identity, so if you think that’s a necessary part of that then you should keep it.”

Y/n played with the delicate silver cross dangling from the chain across her neck before looking up to the sky, just like Aizawa saw her do earlier during class.

“Kay.”

The conversation from the classroom had been a tense one to say the least. Iida, in his self-correct but oblivious way, asked the quiet girl, “Don’t you think it may be offensive to wear a cross as part of your hero costume? Won’t people feel imposed upon? Besides, very few people are catholic after the development of the quirk gene. Would it not, perhaps, be a better choice to remove that aspect from your uniform?”

Y/n had, at the time, only responded briefly, “Why would people be offended by a necklace?” Everyone looked up to the mounds above her head. No one said a thing.

A few days later he finally broke, “It was surprising I suppose. Not like I care, but people aren’t really religious anymore.”

She tried not to think about it, and she continued to try not to think about it long after she had left the rooftop. People aren't really religious anymore. Y/n tried to think through what makes a religion a religion, where things started to turn after quirks were made. Some religions embraced them as a new moral test of god, others claimed it disproved God entirely. Some drew strange connections claiming the bible predicted it all along.

Y/n is sitting in her room when it happens. She's absent-mindedly rolling her silver cross necklace between her fingers while ignoring her homework when she things- it would be so much easier if I wasn't religious anymore.

It felt dirty, like a dangerous secret. What does it mean to be religious on a personal level? She isn't allowed on the campound, let alone in the church. She doesn't read the scripture any more, nor does she pray genuinely. After a few cafeteria visits with Kaminari keeping her company she's even began to speak the lord's name in vain. Yet Y/n is so sure, in her heart and center of everything, that there is spirit within her.

She thinks about the religion she learned about the first time someone called her hometown a cult. She googled what the word meant and learned about a different group, a group that drank poison and passed away as a whole. Y/n can't think of another species that would do that and thinks they must have spirit.

The eyes from the pews followed her as she walked, head bowed as she pushed forward, past every person she ever knew, towards her father. Her father who forgave her, who actually forgave her. Forgave her monstrous appearance, was willing to look past the disgusting curse she had. She loves her father. So she kneeled willingly before the cross and bowed her head fifty times before turning on her knees towards her father.

A hush fell over the chapel.

She accepted the holy blade from her father.

She lifted it above her head.

The scream echoed through the room, bounding back towards her from the walls it landed on. The blade moved back and forth, until her world became deathly still.

Her father placed his hand upon her head, gently ending the assault. “You’re doing well, my child.” Each following day was ended with her in the privacy of her family's bunker, penance following shortly after.

She was repenting for her sins, but there was a silent acknowledgment among everyone. For Y/n, who never stopped sinning, there must be constant repentance. Nothing short of unyielding devotion. The days blurred together, so did her memory.

Y/n looked up at the board, eyes coated with gloss and filled to the brim with pain, pain, misery. ‘Quirkless Study.’ A lesson on discrimination, of differences, of acceptance. Forty seven minutes of something she’d kill to get out of-- something she’d die to get out of.

The class wasn’t today, thank God, but it was soon. Soon, being tomorrow. Tomorrow, class, quirkless, pure thing, stuck, school, mistake, thing, thing, thing. Words echoed through her head, too fast for Y/n too pick them apart, too fast to be remembered, just fast enough to hurt.

Y/n stayed on the roof from after school to midnight, far too long in the cold, too long without eating, too long for no body to have noticed.

“Fucking hell, kid. Why are you out here?”

Aizawa-Sensai dropped in and wrapped his scarf around Y/n’s shaking body, noting both the absent look in her eyes and the festering fear lying just beneath the surface.

"Y/l/n? Are you with me?"

What a silly question. Of course she was with him, they're on the same rooftop– he's got a hand lying gently on her shoulder.

"Because you seem a little far away."

And didn't that make so much sense. Because they were right next to each other, much like how her dad was right in front of her, yet both of them were miles away from where Y/n was.

"I'm sorry, sensei."

He froze, "it's Allright, Y/n, it's going to be okay."

The need to gasp for air clued her in that she'd started to cry. The warm tears burned her frigid skin.

"Hey, hey," Aizawas voice rumbled deep in his chest, "careful there." He tapped her knuckles which had turned white with the force she had been digging her nails into her arms.

"I don't want to go to school tommorow."

She winced but he didn't answer her. Saying the words out loud felt different than the mantra from her head. It all seems a little silly now. Y/n wanted to be a hero after all, and here she was; scared to go to class.

The man leveled his eyes with her and sighed, raising a hand between her two curled horns and patting the top of her head.

"It's not silly, Y/n."

She wrinkled her nose at him, unsure of his meaning and was floored when he began to laugh. "You mutter, but that's okay. You don't have to be a hero yet; not today and not tomorrow. For now you are still a child, and you deserve to feel the safety that should come with that."

It felt odd, to feel so cold you want to shiver and yet melt from the inside out. Maybe, maybe that was true. Maybe she will be a hero in a few years, maybe less. But tonight she wasn't, tonight she could feel as little as that sentence made her. Small and safe, so fucking fragile but perfectly protected.

It made her want to cry.

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

and there we have it. I know it's a little random but I feel like sometimes we carry the weight of lifetimes with us and forget how young we are in the grand scheme of things. It's okay. We'll figure this out together.

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