Garfield/Garf Ă 18+ Ă This blog is an alt dedicated to reblogging fics I liked in hopes of archiving them as opposed to liking them and then never finding them again, since after 8 years of using Tumblr it gets hard to find specific posts in your likes Ă Minors do NOT interact, you will be blocked on sight
AN: wanted to make a small fic inspired by a dream i had a some time ago that i can't get off my mind
It had been three years since Midoriya Izuku passed, and since then you had never dared step foot inside that house. Things would change however when you receive a certain request from the boys mother asking you to house-sit while she was in the hospital. You couldn't refuse her.
warnings: angst, noquirkau, ghosts, slight yandere in a later part, implied suicide, bullying mention, definitely ooc but idc, also not proof read but idc
You got out of your car, taking in the fresh air and the view of cloudy Fall. The orange and brown colors ordain the yard of the house you're staring at as you feel an emotional sensation twirl in your stomach. It's been some time since you've been here, given the last time you were inside that home your childhood friend was still alive. He was more than a friend to you, but you always found it easier to describe him as a your friend as opposed to a 'highschool sweetheart' given the short time you two held with each other.
You continuously stare at the house, knowing full well you'll have to go in soon. You came back to the area recently to help Inko, Izuku's mom, with housesitting while she was away sick, she was recently hospitalized and so she needed someone to housesit in the meantime. You two bonded well after his death, finding solace in being with someone who also carried that unforgettable burden on the heart.
You sighed before going to the back of your car to open the trunk revealing a black luggage case that had all your clothes and belongings in it. You were supposedly staying for a few days until Inko recovered enough to be released so you packed enough clothes to last you for about 3 days. You grabbed your luggage out the trunk and closed the trunk before bringing it to the front of the door.
According to Inko she mentioned that she would be leaving a key behind one of the potted plants, which enough quick searching you find it soon enough. Taking the key you unlock the door and open it. As you step inside you take in the familiar but now distant view of the house, you can't tell if it's the grief or the nostalgia that's making the house look less vibrant and joyful it used to be. The pang you feel in your gut as you stand at the doorway is one you were half-heartedly expecting, but were hoping to avoid. You look at the walls and notice the lack of pictures there used to be when you were younger as you recall a conversation she had with you where she mentioned her therapist recommended she make photo albums instead to help handle the grief better.
You close the door and stand there for a moment, you recall bittersweet memories of Izuku and you when you were kids.
(
Izuku and you sat in front of the TV playing games, a bit too close for Inko's taste but she let you both just enjoy the day. Your mom dropped you off since she had other things to tend to that day, and found it better to let you play with your friend than to hand you off to some random babysitter.
You were playing some kind of racer game, the name that's been lost to you, and you two were taking turns to play it together since Izuku only had one controller. You both were aiming to get first place since the spot had eluded the both of you so far, yet the closest you both seemed to get to was second place.
Izuku sputtered out some noises, once again landing in second place, "The game has to be cheating! This isn't fair...!" he said with a flair of frustration. You reached over to grab the controller, and he reluctantly handed it to you with a pout, as he wanted to go again. You noticed this and a grand idea had popped into your mind.
"Why don't we share? I take this side of the controller and you take the other." You proposed the idea, figuring that maybe if you two put your best skills together in the game that you both can get first. Izuku face changed as he began to think about the offer, before turning to a smile.
"Okay, I'll take the left side of the controller and you get the right, does that sound good?" He offered, as you nodded with a smile. You moved in close to sit right next to Izuku, you both flush next to each other. He froze for a moment, surprised by the contact, but regained himself and you both split the controller. It was awkward handling the controller but you both got used to it. Next thing you know...
"We did it!!!" You cheered, both your faces brimming with elation. Izuku hugged you in joy and you hugged him back. Your face felt warm and you were happy.
You were happy.
)
Tears welled at your eyes as you breathe in the painful nostalgia, you know you should be happy about the time you two got to spend together but another part laments what could have been. Where would you be now if two different strands of fate melded into each other? Would you be happier? Or would you still be as miserable as you feel now?
Your internal ruminations are halted by your stomach growling, realizing that you didn't eat when you left this morning for the four hour drive here. You recalled Inko told you she had some leftovers and other food in the fridge you could help yourself to. You wipe your eyes of the small beads that collected in the corners of your eyes. You recall where the kitchen was and leave your luggage by the front door since you want to eat before you unpack.
She offered to pay for your stay, but you declined since you figured it had been some time since you left this place for schooling. After Izuku's passing, you wrote this entire city off in act of resentment. The only good thing around here is your family and Inko, who you cherish like family. To you, she is the kindest woman you have ever known, and the least deserving of what had happened. She felt bad about you staying since she knew how you felt about everything surrounding his death. You two had met up occasionally for lunch in that time following, you even jokingly refer to her as your second mom since she practically co-raised you when you were young.
Entering the kitchen, you hit the lights in the kitchen, deciding the grey ambience from outside was too much for your worn heart to handle. Warm lights grace you and your mood immediately eases, funny how light can alter your mood so much. You beeline for the fridge, beginning to feel the crushing hunger on you. You grab the first thing of left overs that catches your eye and place it on the counter. Before you go to close the fridge door you feel a strong cold sensation in front of you that sends shivers down your back. You blink for a moment before writing the cold off as coming from the fridge.
You close the fridge and go to nuke the leftovers in the microwave, feeling the sudden exhaustion of the long drive. Realizing you hadn't even taken your coat off, you do so quickly and toss it on one of the vacant chairs in the kitchen. You rub your face and stretch to try and put a little bit more energy into yourself, finding no success in the matter. You yawn as you go back to stare at your food rotating in the microwave, feeling the slowness of time.
Suddenly the sounds of a soft guitar fill the room, as your phone begins ringing. You pull your phone out of your pocket and instantly recognize the caller ID, you waste no time picking up. Setting the phone to speaker phone and placing it on the counter, you answer.
"Hey, Mom Two!" you respond in a cheerful tone.
"Hello, (Y/N)." she responds in a happy but groggy fashion, reminding you again that she's in the hospital.
"How's everything going on with you at the hospital? Nothing too bad I hope."
"Oh I'll be fine I'm sure, the doctor's just want to run a few tests and make sure I'm well and rested up."
You smile as the microwave goes off, you ignore it in favor of the conversation.
"That's good at least, last thing we need you rushing out of the hospital and breaking a hip!" You joke as she laughs in return.
"Hey, I'm that old! You never know, once I'm all healed up I might be more spry than you!" She joked in return as you chuckled. "Did you make it to the house?" She asked, as you feel your smile begin to drop.
"Oh yeah, just got here in fact. I haven't unpacked yet though. How long do you think you'll be in the hospital anyways." You respond in a false cheery tone, hoping to change the conversation. This doesn't go completely unnoticed by Inko.
"Doctor's estimated in three days, hopefully I'll get discharged in two." There's a short silence before Inko follows up with a question. "How's the house? I know it's been a while since you've been inside so I want to make sure you're fine." She said with a slight concern for you in her voice. You wanted to run from the conversation, you weren't ready to talk about this yet.
"Oh it's fine. Actually Inko, I just heated some food up and I'm really tired and I also have to unpack, so how about I call you later tonight or tomorrow?" You quickly try to dodge the conversation, this also doesn't go unnoticed by Inko.
"Alright... but if you have any issues call me, okay? And if you need to leave I completely understand, just let me know okay?"
"Yes Inko, I'll call you later." You hang up the phone, and swallow your emotions. You'll have to apologize to her later, but talking about it will just bring out a lot that you're not ready for.
You grab your leftovers and take them with you to the couch. You're sure you'd be scolded for this but you need to sit down and relax, in front of you sits the living room TV and a coffee table littered with miscellaneous trinkets. You reach for the remote to turn the TV on to fill the silence in the room with something other than your thoughts.
You flip over to some random trashy reality TV, you didn't care what it was, as long as it drowned your thoughts in a lake of silence. You shove a mouthful of food into you as you barely focus on the uninspired drivel displayed in front of you. You take delight in the food, you'll definitely have to send your regards to Inko when she comes back. She was always a good cook, although you'd never say it, you sometimes felt she was an even better cook then your mother.
(
"Ms. Midoriya, what foods does Izuku like?" You asked, looking up at Inko.
"Why do you ask?" Inko asked, a glimmer of curiosity shining in her eyes. You shuffle awkwardly, thinking of a way to explain away your intentions. You and Izuku had just started middle school, and you don't want to lie to her about your intentions, but you're not sure if it's your place you talk about it.
"Just curious is all." You lied, feeling light guilt burden itself on your shoulders. You wanted her to know, but you didn't know if it was appropriate to tell her. You merely swallow your feelings on the matter.
Inko looks at you for a moment, taking notice of your awkward demeanor and the way you're having difficulty looking at her.
"Izuku really likes Katsudon." She responded with a comforting smile, you felt relieved she wasn't going to grill you for more details. You didn't know if it was okay to tell her kids at school were bullying Izuku and destroying his lunches. You felt bad for him, and you wanted to help him by making him lunches, that way he could still eat. He'd never ask for help, he was always worried about burdening others with his problems.
"How do you make katsudon? Can you teach me?" Determined to help Izuku any way you could, you decided this could be the best method without making him feel like he's a burden on you. Inko nodded. and that day you learn how to cook Izuku's favorite food.
)
You quickly scarf the food down as your stomach reminds you why you're eating in the first place, and once you finish you lazily place the leftovers on the coffee table before you. You try to focus your attention to the TV, trying to ignore the fact of your situation and that you still need to unpack, but you fail miserably. All you could think about was when you two were younger and the innocent bliss that came with it.
Your eyes began to tear up.
You felt a strong pit in your throat, rife with emotion. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You choked out a small sob as you covered your face with your hands, breaking down from the grief. You felt the swirling emotions of anger, a sense of loss, loneliness, and most importantly; sadness.
It wasn't fair! Izuku was the kindest boy you ever knew, so why him? Why was he the punching bag for all the other kids? No reasonable conclusion could come to your mind other than all the other kids were awful, reminding you of the vitriol you felt when he died. You remember screaming in anger, threatening to beat up the other kids, you cursed them; hoping one day they'll be forced to feel the grief they made you endure. One thought popped out the most, the one that hurt and broke you the most;
Why weren't you enough to convince him to stay?
You let out a loud sob as you curl inwards to the couch, wishing you were being comforted. For the past three years you've been forced to face that gnawing emptiness as you try to deny it's existence in you, some days you find peace with it; and then there are days like today. You cried into the couch cushions for some time trying to find some comforting solution to your suffering; only leaving you with cuts on your fingers tugging at empty fishing lines from a lake of grief.
Soon enough you felt yourself grow tired from all the weeping, calming down as you lay on the couch. You felt another cold sensation hit you, and you cuddle further into a couch, too heartbroken to fetch a blanket. You close your eyes, and feel the overwhelming exhaustion hit you again. You can wait on unpacking your luggage, you wanted- no, needed rest. This can all wait for tonight, as you just want your brain to be silent for a moment.
Thus in that moment, you felt yourself drift off into a sleep, unaware of the other presence lurking in the house.
may I request a âbeing in a secret relationshipâ with izuku and shoto? (separate of course lol) it can be headcannons, short scenario, etc
BUT
one certain day, someone (could be anyone!) from class 1A finds out somehow? and tells the rest of the classssss-
I randomly thought about this-
If you don't want to do this it's fine lmao
Secret Relationship Headcanons || MHA characters x reader
A/n : I love these random thoughts ! They always make my day đâš
Including : Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki
Warning : fluff, making out, mention of other characters, secret relationship but you get exposed đ
Masterlist â
I donât give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it
Words count : 1988
Izuku Midoriya :
He has many reasons to be in a secret relationship with you. Far from being ashamed of you, on the contrary, he still wonders how a someone as awesome as you ended up with a Deku loser like him
You're his little marvel âš
But being with him is very dangerous, and he was fully aware of it after the second attack of the League of Villain at the training camp... a week after you got together
You decided to wait for at least the double before making it official but this event made izuku wonder. And being the smart boy he is and knowing the fact that the One For All was going to make him a target of choice for the villains, he decided to keep your relationship secret
(( Of course before his vigilante era because in that case I sincerely think he will break up with you to be 100% sure you will be safe... he will watch over you from the shadows ))
But you are far from it for a long time :')
The attack at the training camp had one advantage according to you two, the setting up of the dormitories !
Now it's like you live together
Well, you had to hide from the others but in theory it was quite easy
Knowing that you met exclusively at night, to discuss your respective days or your fears of the future
At the beginning, being the respectful and shy boy that he is, he would only come and chat with you, have a good laugh and then he would kiss your cheek and tiptoe back to his room
Until one day you got tired of him being respectful and kissed him and pulled him into bed with you to cuddle
Turned out you made out after 10 sec at looking at each other in silence
He was so red you could see him glow in the dark
You're personal little Rudolph
Honestly you were doing your stuff quite discreetly, it's not like anyone could guess unless they saw Izuku coming out of your room early in the morning
And it was much more convenient and pleasant to fall asleep with him in your arms or vice versa than to fall asleep with the phone in your hand after hours of discussion through cameras
The day nothing could give away your little secret either
At first you didn't have the same group of friends. He spent his time with Uraraka, Iida and Todoroki while you spent your time with Mina, Hanta, Denki, Eijiro and Katsuki
The few times you and Izuku were together during the day were during training or lunch
But for most people it was just friendship and he probably pestered you with tons of questions about your alter
Well, most of the people but not the explosive Katsuki Bakugo, who considered you as his sister since you interfered with the lov so he wouldn't get kidnapped that night
In short he had a lot of respect for you and even if he hid it well, he was always looking forward to your exciting discussions
However, that day he did not see you in the canteen with the rest of the Bakusquad
"The hot headed isn't here ?" ( a little nickname he had given you since the fight at the training camp )
"I think she went to lunch with Izuku" answered Eijiro while pointing to a table not far from theirs
"Oooooh ! They are so cute !" squeaked Mina
"Ughhh I'm sick of it at this rate I could never date Y/n" whined Denki ( almost wrote my name there pfff )
"What did you say you joker ?!?" yelled Katsuki grabbing Denki by the collar
"No nothing- nothing ! Didn't say a word"
Katsuki was very protective of you and that's what drew his attention to you and Izuku in the first place
His charp attention allowed him to see that during the training Izuku never went to 100% of his strength with you while he was doing it casually with the other girls. And you were far from needing it
So Katsuki kept an eye on you for a week, trying to find out if anything suspicious was going on
( A/n : Jeez Katsuki đ
"Huh ? What did you say nerd ?!?"
"Kiyaa nothing" runs out of UA )
He had already noticed that the door of Izuku's room - which was not far from his - opened systematically at around 7 in the morning, that is to say about 30 minutes before everyone had to get up
But everything became much clearer the following Friday night
Class 1-A had decided to have a movie night as usual and for the first time Katsuki decided to stay in order to solve the mystery
And that's when he saw something he could never have imagined
While you were sitting on one of the sofas with Izuku by your side one of his hands came to rest on your thigh and you turned your head to give him a smile which he shyly replied
Soon all the heads turned towards the blond who had just released a small explosion without noticing
"This is a joke !" he thought
After that we declared to take a break from the movie while everyone went to the bathroom or to get more snacks
You were also going to get some popcorn leaving Izuku alone on the couch
Katsuki took advantage of this and grabbed Izuku by the collar and dragged him into the corridor before tackling him to the wall
"How long have you two been messing with us ?!?"
"W-what ? I don't understand what you're talking about argh" Izuku pretended not to understand
"I hope your intentions are good nerd or I'll exolode your stupid face" he shouted
And as Izuku was about to push Katsuki to get out of his grip, you appeared behind Katsuki and grabbed him by the shoulders "Don't worry, it's going to be okay"
The explosive sighed and let go of Izuku before his bright red eyes landed on you "I better not scrap you off the ground"
With Vigilante Deku though...
The yelling of your brother from another mother has attracted the rest of the class who are looking at you with round eyes
"Uh what is it ?" asked Mineta
And as Katsuki was about to yell that it was none of their business you took Izuku's hand in yours and spoke up "We're dating"
Everyone gasped in unison, hand over mouth
"Since when ?" asked Momo
Izuku blushed deeply and scratched the back of his head "P-practically 1 year-"
"A Y E A R !!!"
Apart from that the news went pretty well... that doesn't mean that Katsuki will stop mothering you any time soon
Shoto Todoroki :
He too has good reasons to keep your relationship a secret
The first one being that he is the son of a famous hero and he absolutely does not want your relationship to be torn apart by his old man's reputation or status
Secondly, he doesn't want his father to find out either, he's sure he'd tell him how you're not right for him and how much better he needs you
Which would result in a violent outburst from Shoto that no one would have ever seen
(( Then there is also the Dabi problem which would make you a potential target for the lov but that's a future proble đ / cries ))
However I think he would tell Fuyumi about it, I'm even sure. For the simple reason that he is dense and sentimentally constipated / affectionate So he will need all the help in the world in his relationship with you before he eventually gets the hang of it
In itself it wasn't really a problem from that point of view. As he didn't like the atmosphere in his house he preferred to spend time with you outside, walking in the woods or fields rather than rotting inside
He even managed to bring Fuyumi with him one day during one of your walks and you could meet his wonderful big sister, with whom you got along very well right away
"Now I understand why Shoto talks about you all the time" she told you
You swear you have never seen your boyfriend so red in your life, it's as if his scar has disappeared
Apart from this you both felt at times a lack of each other
That is to say that the affectionate looks exchanged in class or during the training or the lunch surrounded by your friends but still separated by the big table prevent you to bloom as you wish
It's only when the dormitories in the academy was decreed that you could finally spend a lot of time together
His discretion allowed him to slip away without being noticed during the breaks
But you also found an opening to get away when your friends proposed activities such as movie nights, board games, video games
That's how, by declining Mina's invitation to the movie night, you managed to find yourselves alone for the evening
It had been a long, long time since you had been alone together
And it was due to the intensive succession of the courses and trainings imposed by Aizawa who didn't go easy on you
In short it was an understatement to say that you had missed each other
And knowing the effect you had on Shoto, it was not surprising that he literally jumped on you, the moment you had moved away from the dormitory complex
He was thirsty for your affection and that's how you found yourself pinned to a tree, his hands firmly holding your hips as he kissed you fiercely
"I kiss missed kiss you kiss so kiss much kiss"
When you both found yourself dizzy from lack of air, you parted, your hands still nestled in his mismatched hair
He gave you a smile with crinkled eyes you'd only seen on his face on special occasions
Your eyes locked with his and before you knew it one of his hands was on your cheek, pulling your lips to his once more
You ran your tongue over his bottom lip to intensify the kiss
"Huh ? What's going on here ?"
This made him jump back separating him from you in an instant. You squeaked at the sudden question from Denki
"Erm nothingâŠ" you replied
After clearing his throat Shoto asked "What are you doing here ?
"Ah I heard noises, like moaning and thought someone was hurt- IS THAT LIPSTICK THAT YOU HAVE ON YOUR MOUTH ?!? OOOOOOOOH !!!" he said pointing at you both with his fingers
Shoto turned pale and turned to you, his eyes widened at the sight of your own smeared lipstick on your lips "Do I have some too ?" he asked in a small voice
Out of the corner of your eye you saw Denki running away so you ran after him leaving Shoto in the lurch. You grabbed Denki with your quirk and tackled him to the ground "You won't tell anyone" you said in a threatening voice
He nodded and you let him go
Shoto suddenly appeared behind you "Will you be alright ?"
You gasped "As long as you're ok I'm ok"
He pulled you to him and kissed your forehead "Then we'll be fine"
As expected, once he arrived in the dormitories Denki whispered to Eijiro, Hanta and Mina what he had just seen
And Mina told it to the girls
15 minutes later Shoto and you arrived in the common room and all heads turned to you as the movie stopped leaving you all in an awkward silence
"Icy Hot !!!"
Shoto looked at him with an indifferent look before seeing you speeding past him towards the blonde who had just run off "DENKI !!!"
~
~
A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! đ„ŻđŻ Again my requests are open đ„đ„
Pining! Shoto who doesn't know how to show his love correctly. Who stares at you blankly until you understand his feelings.Â
Pining! Shoto who didn't even know he liked you until Ochako made a teasing remark about his staring.Â
Pining! Shoto who follows you around helplessly, and you don't seem to mind the extra addition. Who smiles and nods when you begin to invite him to wherever you are going.
Pining! Shoto who jumps and accidentally releases bits of his quirk when you accidentally graze his hand. Who clentches his fist in embarrassment when you ask if he was okay.
Pining! Shoto who blushes furiously the first time you praise him on his hero skills. Who stands there nodding and trying not to freak out when you say how âstrong!â and âcool!â he is.
Pining! Shoto who sits too close to you on the couch. Always manages to somehow sit in between you and a friend.Â
Pining! Shoto whose head whips around to you whenever he hears you laugh or talk.Â
Pining! Shoto who sits next to you when you are online shopping. Listens to when you lightheardedly complain about how expensive everything is. Who buys everything you put in your shopping cart with his fathers credit card and brings it to your dorm room.
Pining! Shoto who thinks he is sick when he sees you talking so estactically to Kirishima. Who grabs your shoulder and leads you away from the redhead. Finally feeling that tight, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach fade.
Pining! Shoto who just can't stop talking about you to his friends. Who somehow mentions your name in every conversation. âOh, I think Y/N would like this.â and âDoesn't this remind you guys of Y/N?â or âI wish Y/N was here right now.â
I can easily envision this man seeing you walk down the aisle and saying to himself: don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry-
then he sees you let down a single tear...boom, he's done.
he lets out a deep sigh and his hand flies straight to his face to cover the tears streaming down his face.
as you complete your walk down the aisle, his hand still covering his face as he stifles out sobs of happiness
you frown and place your hand on top of his, softly pulling it away to show his face all teary-eyed and puffy.
"you can cry around me, Katsuki" you smiled at him.
"I know baby, I'm just so fuckin' happy."
EJIRO KIRISHIMA
this man is just so happy to see you in your dress walking down the aisle.
"wow"
"holy shit"
"I can't believe this!"
"beautiful"
Kirishima was giddy with every step you took down the aisle, flowers in hand and a smile on your lips.
your soon-to-be husband was absolutely adorable, the way how he couldn't keep his hands in place. constantly combing through his hair, placing them over his mouth, or over his head.
he was in a blissful state of shock.
especially when you finally reached him, as soon as you stepped up towards him his hands stuck to your waist for the rest of the ceremony.
the way he cutely muttered, "hey Mrs. Kirishima."
and the way you giggled "hi," back.
god, this was the best day of his life.
SHOTO TODOROKI
I think the whole ceremony was a dream for him.
he couldn't process the present moment until the ceremony was complete.
the both of you left in your "just got married!" vehicle and decided to head to the beach to finally celebrate your marriage alone.
he saw the way your dress flowed elegantly in the wind.
the way the sunset hits your face, your dress sparkled as your laughter became a constant siren in his mind.
the both of you stayed until nightfall.
sitting in the car, huddled up with a spare blanket. he looks at you sleeping on his chest, he couldn't believe that he was finally married to you.
he was so glad to have you.
IZUKU MIDORIYA
this man is literally crying BUCKETS OF RAIN
he just can't believe it, let the poor man process this in his own ways guys.
he's standing here today, about to marry the woman of his dreams.
tears pouring down his face, cheeks red and puffy, he's just full-on sobbing like a two-year-old.
the way your dress moved with you so perfectly, you were so perfect.
he wasn't even crying about the present moment, he was crying about all the moments after the ceremony.
like when you'll have children, how the both of you will watch them grow old, how he'll watch you grow old with him.
he wanted every single moment with you to last forever
and today was the start of his forever.
ngl, this was cute as shit and had my delusions going LMAO.
genre: fluff, crack (?), them hyping u up like thereâs no tomorrow, uhh reader wears makeup đ€
notes: this is for all u pretty mfs aka all of u whether u believe it or not YOU ARE PRETTY AMD HOT AND AMAZING đĄâŒïž also disclaimer: the boys love u not just for your face. they think youâre so cool for being beautiful inside n out and this is just them appreciating the out đ§ââïž
bakugo katsuki thinks youâre so pretty that his only response to it is to be angry. heâd watch intently the way youâd smooth your clothes down and cutely fiddle with your hair in the mirror as if thereâs even anything to fix. heâll cup your pretty face in his hands and squeeze your cheeks together (cuteness aggression probably), âtell me why youâre so fucking pretty all the time? what are you so pretty for, huh?!â
bakugo katsuki would always watch you do your makeup and hair and then slip into the prettiest clothes only you can pull off and heâs just mesmerized by the whole thing.
âkatsuki, please stop drooling and get dressed. weâre gonna be late.â
his only response is: âfuck off.â
because he can never deny nor hide the fact that he constantly admires you every chance he gets. he storms his way to you and snatches a shimmery eyeshadow from your makeup bag. âtch, you donât even need any of this shit.â
âyou donât like it, katsuki?â you stare up at him doe-eyed, easily making his heart skip a beat.
âh-hah?! i didnât say that!â he shoves it to your hand, ânow do this glittery shit next!â
and you just ditch whatever plans youâd made and spend the rest of the night trying on different makeup looks. heâll insist that you sit on his lap while you doll yourself up just because, and you gladly do so but then you both end up wearing a full face of glam makeup đ§ââïž he doesnât know how he just let it happen but heâs like, âwhatever makes you fucking happy, y/n.â
he then proceeds to tell you that, âevery one of those ugly extras should grovel at your feet, worship the ground you walk on, and then beg for your forgiveness.â
âforgive them for what?â
he stares blankly at you. âfor breathing the same air as you.â
bakugo katsukiâs not active on social media at all but on his instagram, his first and only post is a photo dump of just youăŒ the selfies you took on his phone, your date outfits, candid photos (by courtesy of bakugo katsuki) of you smiling at a stray cat, the power nap you took on his shoulder, and his favorite one by far: a photo of you wearing his black tank top that completely swallows you up, holding up two little peace signs on your cheeks.
and of course, he captions it, âu and ur ugly ass wish u were y/n.â
Contains: angst (if u squint), suggestive/implied nsfw, swearing, fluff lmk if I miss something
Words: 1K
A/n: this was in my main account's draft for like a year or so BUT ENJOY I hope you like this ps. I HOPE THIS HEADER FITS THE THEME CAUSE I MADE IT
He always thought that you would be together after all you were best friends, as much as he never wanted to admit to it but you were always together. Like when he got his licence, you being there for almost almost all his birthdays, awards and everything. You were always there for him and he was always there for you. You got him out of going to jail, You got him out of the house, when no one else did you were like his rock when he felt like he didn't have one.
And there was no denying it. Not to you, not to him not to anybody you guys were super close too. So when you guys said you would be back in a bit everybody knew you guys wanted to be left alone even if it wasn't said you guys weren't together but everyone let you two be without bugging or asking. Knowing you guys you would wanna spend a bit of alone time together before you both left for college and then you'd start your lives.
The short and quiet drive to the lake was nothing but comfortable. Radio silence and then the car coming to a stop and you and bakugou were in a good mood although he would never admit you being alone with him made him feel things he didn't feel with others. Seeing the lake made him really think about you, and everything leading up to this. He thought about every single little detail and this lake, this stupid little lake. The lake he met you at and the lake he realized he loved you at the week before this. Where you found him on the verge of tears cause he had been broken up with, where you met his friends and he met yours. All those memories hit him with full force as he saw the orange, pink, purple, blue and golden hues of the somewhat clear sunset.
Sitting in the car and turning the engine off he looked at you. Slightly asleep and head against the cold glass of the window. He wasn't sure what to think, he didn't know why his eyes were scanning your tired body. He didn't know why he so badly wanted to kiss you or why his heart was racing. He couldn't figure out why the look of your smooth skin gave him goosebumps and why the way you were just sitting in his passenger seat the night before you both left for collage, even when your guy's friends were at his house for one last hurrah.
He didn't get why you suck by him even with his "monster" like attitude or why you'd defend it either. He always thought about why you did or a way to explain it. He never did and after sometime he stopped and just paid attention to you. Seeing everything he could, wanting to know as much about you as you did him.
But he got too full of emotion and without thinking he was pulling you to him. Getting the best of him was hard for most never knowing what he was like except for you. You didn't think he would be pulling your hoodie to him and locking lips with the ash blond pulling him in harder than he did you, feeling the need he emitted from a simple kiss. Pulling away when you both needed air but he still held onto you if anything tightening his solid grip.
"All I wanna do, is take care of you." He paused for a second almost completely out of breath, "Will you let me take care of you." looking you saw nothing but pure love and dilated scarlet pupils. At a loss of words you go to speak but he beats you to it "I'll let you take care of me." You swore that in that moment you had never heard his speak so softly. Knowing how much he hated when people offered to take care of him, you know he was serious but the way his hand started to lightly tremble and how his ear tips were getting the slightest shade of pink to 'em. Looking at you and seeing you teary-eyed and nodding yes with a soft look "yeah?" he said more like a question. Giving him a nod for the third time "Okay."
You never thought you would see this day, you thought it would be a happy time. Given the circumstances you would have been so excited, but in the morning you'd both leave and start anew with one another. You weren't sure why you didn't stop him from kissing you more or why you wanted it to last forever. You loved it, you love him that's why you'd never stop him. You wanted to feel his hands roam your body untouched by another feeling like it was right. While he showed you what his love really was telling you that you'd be sweet nothings and praise while wiping your tears away. You both knew you'd love each other even after college so you both took your time and sat in the car after you were done.
The ride home was quite pleasant as you both made some small talk and talked about future plans you both had while in and out of college. You both always wanted to be in contact and that was the promise you made it was to always keep contact no matter what was going on in and out of school. You both talked about your majors as you pulled into a parking lot to get ice cream, with you being nosy about him always you asked about why he chose to go into mechanics and engineering. And he asked you why you wanted to get into botany and art while he ordered your ice creams. And as you guys were getting back home you took a good look at everything one last time and said "until we meet again yeah?"
anyone remember reading a bakugo katsuki/reader fic (somewhere probably between 3k - 10k words) where they're just roommates living together and quarantine hits and they develop feelings for each other and like, the build up is both bakugo and reader get a lil tipsy and hit on eachother til it gets mildly angsty and then they fuck? i remember reading this fic atleast a year ago and im suffering trying to find it
look buddy, idk how else to explain to you that bakugou is a fictional character and that the minors do not interact is to prevent REAL minors from interacting with the post. im not concerned with fictional characters or the morality of it as i am of actual children interacting with my ns/f/w blog. im not gonna harbor this conversation on my blog so this is the last I'm talking ab it.
if it's alright may i request saitama, genos, and garou with a fem reader with massive tits? like just how would the boys react (nsf/w mixed w sfw hc's pls :D) to a reader with the big naturals, which if you do this request tysm!! :D
aight bruh. I have experience in this field
If he had a Big Tiddied Bitch
~~~~
SFW
He don't like you borrowing certain t-shirts cause you stretch them out and make that weird sag in the front. He specifically got 2 shirts a couple sizes up to avoid that
He comments often about your back hurting he doesn't know how you do it fr he feels bad
Crumb magnets, we can all agree. Always says some shit like, "Saving some for later?" when you eat something that he knows will cause that. Definitely laughing at you
N/SFW
Hope u like breast/nipple play bc it's basically mandatory for him (with consent ofc) Sometimes he just does it cause he's bored. Like he doesn't want to have full on sex he just wants to play with them and get you going like organic stim toys
Falls asleep on them midway through sometimes. Best sleep he gets
The internal struggle between wanting to fuck you hard enough because the way they bounce is just cool to him and not wanting to hurt you/temporarily paralyze you waist down so you can't do shit
If you wear any sort of pretty lingerie/leather it's gurenteed you won't be going anywhere for a few hours. Or days. The outfit might be ruined too. He gets quite animalistic
SFW
He has the math on the actual size of them thanks to endless shameless staring to perform the calculations. So take him bra shopping with you, cause he WILL know what will fit or not.
Same with shirts he'll tell you if they'll flatter your shape or squish out wrong. And he don't care if you stretch his shirts out on accident
Somehow knows if someone is staring and will confront them loudly (a bit of possessive jealousy if you will)
N/SFW
I've HC that Genos loves all things squishy matter what part of the body it is, so he does like hugging/squeezing them. Not always in a sexual way, though. He's just been metal for so long he's forgotten what his own flesh felt like so it's more of fascination.
Aside from that he likes having you grind/hop on his dick while he's sitting up/against something, say like on a couch, as he sucks on your tits
How he had the conversation of getting micro vibrators installed in his fingertips, you'll never know. Might have installed them himself to avoid that explanation. Very handy for universal use!
You got polka dot tits always. That's where most of the hickeys go. You can't wear low collar nothing for SHIT. It might be done on purpose
SFW
Dude is insensitive to how sensitive tiddies can be, pain wise. He likes fucking around and squeezing/poking them to get on your nerves. It's recommended if he keeps up his bullshit to punch him in his own tiddy.
Missing a bra? He's wearing it and waiting for you to notice. Always in the outside of his clothes or his head over his hair
He never realized how useful they were at holding shit and insists you help him with looting shit from places, or stores.
N/SFW
Absolute tits dude hands down he's got mommy issues. They make him more submissive if he focuses on them too much. So while he likes teasing/sucking them, if he gets too into it he starts switching up
While his preference is being on top, he can't help but watch how they move when you're on top. It's a consistent internal struggle. The visual of it makes him cum faster
Same with boob jobs, he's not lasting more than 3 minutes max. Essentially, big tiddies are the magic to get you a very whiney, submissive bitch if you choose embrace that power
He likes cumming on them so whether it's oral or vaginal/anal he pulls out to cum on them
When you walked down the halls he would shoulder check you or trip you. He would talk loudly about you behind your back to make sure you here. He would call you names whenever chance he got. He would break your stuff or steal it sometimes. The normal bully shit and etc.
But as usual you bit your lip and ignored him. You were taught that if you ignore them, eventually theyâll fuck off and get bored. But Bakugou apparently never got bored because this was your third year of highschool and he still wanted to fuck with you.
One day he takes it too far and you snap in front of everyone. And he canât do anything but watch as you loose your fucking shit.
Angst, bullying, suicide mentions, suicide threatening, bakugou gets what he deserves, lots of cussing, violence
I been wanting to write this for a while but I couldnât figure out the format. I hate this sm but Lmk if yall want a part 2 in the comments.
The hate between you and Bakugou was not complicated. He was a bully, you were his victim. Simple as that.
Bakugou would go out of his way to fuck with you every single day without fail. You had started to hate school because of it. You only had two classes with him and yet he decided to target you out of everyone else.
When you walked down the halls he would shoulder check you or trip you. He would talk loudly about you behind your back to make sure you here. He would call you names whenever chance he got. He would break your stuff or steal it sometimes. The normal bully shit and etc.
âWatch where your fucking going, stone-blind bitch.â He spat at you. He bumped into you, you had even tried to move over for him. But as usual you bit your lip and ignored him. You were taught that if you ignore them, eventually theyâll fuck off and get bored. But Bakugou apparently never got bored because this was your third year of highschool and he still wanted to fuck with you.
You continued on with your day like always, ignoring the harrassment you faced. UA was a guarentee to a successful life, like an infinate amount of money to a grocery store. With UA on your resume, your dream job was yours. So you bare through it, you only had two years left, including this one. You can survive.
Others caught onto what Bakugou was doing and began to isolate and bully you too. He was one of the most popular boys so that immediately made you a weird kid. They laughed and giggled when Bakugou harrassed you. You could still survive.
Atleast you thought you could but your patience is running thin. The last piece of rope twitched as you come back to the lunchroom from the bathroom to find Bakugou and his goons snickering at you.
You sat at a single seat lunch table, one on the more sucluded side of the lunchroom. You had work to do, always. With all the AP classes you took, knowing damn well youâd be screwed, the work load never ended. You needed that extra credit though and nothing was gonna stop you from passing those classes, not even the bully that occupies them.
Thats why when you looked down at the summative 5 page essay you had been working on smeared with the expensive ass milkshake you got at the small cafe next door, you lost your fucking shit.
The whole lunch room had gone quiet, reduced to static in your mind. It was ruined. You knew you shouldnât have done it on paper. You shouldâve just told your professor your computer was in the shop and itâd be late. You shouldâve just went to the library and worked on the sticky computers there. You shouldnât have just went with paper even if you like it better anyway.
On top of your report was a note written in clean, cursive handwriting. Handwriting you knew as Bakugouâs.
Maybe if you used all the money you spent on stupid shit like this milkshake, you could afford to get a computer.
just as you finished reading the note a flash or liquid was thrown straight at you.
Bakugou came over to you with a cup of bright colored juice and pretended to trip just to throw it right into your face.
âOops.â
You hated him. You wanted him to die. You were going to kill him.
The whole lunch room was watching. They pointed and giggled with their friends. Some put their hand over their mouths with a gasp. They looked to their friends for approval to laugh. You were humiliated.
His friends cackled loudly in the back, slapping each other and jumping around. The liquid seeped into the s/c t-shirt you wore, leaving an undeniable stain like a scar after a war. It told everyone what just happened to you.
You hated yourself. You wanted to die. You were going to kill yourself.
You snapped. You didnât know when your body started to move from the drunken feeling of adrenaline. Your fist slamming against his chiseled jawline sobered you up.
The wind up and deliver almost threw you to the floor. You put everything into that punch; your pain, your embarrasment, your tolerance, your suffering, and most of all: your anger.
The sound of your fist reverbed through the lunchroom. The laugher was gone. There were gasps, then there was silence. Dead silence.
The strength of the punch made him stumble backaway from you. He held his cheek in his palm as he looked up at you with a look of surprise and fury. He had no time to block since it was so spontaneous. His cheek began to swell.
The look of bloody murder wouldâve made you shit your pants normally. Something about the act of pure revenge coursed through your veins.
âI CANâT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU!â Your scream bounced off the wall into everybodys ears. âFor all my years of highschool you have hurt me and insulted me! You made my life a living hell! And you wont even tell me what the fuck I did wrong!â
Tears began to well up in your eyes but you swallowed them down to continue your speech. âAnd I know why you wonât tell me, YOU DONT FUCKING KNOW!â You stepped closer to him to scream the last part in his face.
You pushed him back, he let you. âFor YEARS ive been waiting for you to get bored and leave me the fuck alone but you just WONT. I donât know why the hell you do this to me but Iâll tell you one thing,â you shoved an accusing finger in his face. As you met his fiery eyes you yelled at the top of your lungs: âGROW. THE FUCK. UP.â
The push him back again, he lets you once more. âWeâre about to graduate and your going out of your way to fuck with ME! Tellin me I dont have friends, YOU LEFT ALL THE FRIENDS THAT CARE ABOUT YOU! Now your with a whole bunch of fakes that talk shit about you when your not around. YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS TOO! Friends care about you! And NOT ONE, and I mean NOT ONE of your fucky ass hype master âfriendsâ over there give a single fucks ass about you.â
Your voice lowered, âYou might be popular but you are fucking insignificant. Youâre a sadistic asshole who makes everyone around them MISREABLE!â
Everything from the past 2 years pours out of you like rainfall and you canât stop it. You want him to feel how you feel. Embarrased and isolated. You want him to feel like a fuck up just like he makes you feel. And he lets you, too shocked to even say anything.
Tears finally pour out of your eyes but you keep pushing. This was your chance and you were not gonna drop it.
You balled up his shirt and dragged him down to meet his widened eyes. His face twistsd with a look that said he was out for blood. He looked astonished where he was petrified to the floor.
He watched the tears fall down your face with his eyes bulging. âYou make me misreable.â You spit through gritted teeth. âYou make me want to give up and just end it all.â His eyes widen even more at this and his face twists into something sour, like he bit into a lemon of truth and self awarness.
You lower your voice to speak in a clear tone that only he could hear. âAnd if I do end up just jumping off a building or taking 3 whole bottles of pills or maybe even slitting my wrist, I want you to remember that this was your fault. That you pushed me to this. No one else but you and your influence. And I hope you take it to the grave and die on that hill cause the way that things are looking, I will too.â
The next thing you remember you were pulled away by staff into the office. You were suspended for a week.
alright stop the presses: knowingly being pro-hero Deku's side piece and all of the angst and smut that follows it. this is mostly ooc, cheating mention, full blown smut, and mostly angst! also minors don't interact <3
you two met in a bar, both of you had a few drinks and go to a cheap motel for a one-night stand. you wake up to a scribbled note on a napkin saying to meet him at a low-end diner later in the day. you decide to meet up with him and find out you slept with pro-hero deku. at first you expected him to just bribe you and ask you to never discuss the one-night stand, however instead he asked if you wanted to meet up again some time in the future.
you were conflicted internally by the proposition, but going against better judgement you said yes. he seemed pretty happy by the situation and you two properly exchanged numbers. it's not uncommon that atleast once a week he gives you a booty call, simply giving you a motel location and a time followed by an emoji.
you know you should turn him down and that what you have right now is terrible. it twists your stomach knowing that he's cheating on his wife with you, sometimes you wonder if she even knows what he's doing during his late night visits with you. you wonder if she's also seeing others, and that's why he chooses to lay you.
it's another late night visit with him that has you mostly ponder this. it's his usual set-up, a simple text with all the details you need followed by another asking if it was possible for you to make it. you always respond with a yes against your better judgement, knowing you should say no to a married man.
next thing you know you're in the motel room and he's already fighting to get his throbbing cock for you. rarely are words shared between you two, usually if words are said it's normally a moan or him asking if he can cum in you.
you should feel guilty about this, but regardless you can't think about it, especially when the pleasure of him fingering you kicks in, his hands needy to just feel you and fill you out. soon he has you pushed onto the bed as your hands wrap around the red tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum across the pad of your thumb and around his tip. he lets out a soft moan as he catches your lips with a rugged and desperate kiss.
you can barely process whats happening until you find him thrusting into your hole with an iron grip on one of your wrists. you pity your motel neighbors, knowing that nothing can disguise the act. the giveaway sign of the moans leaving from your mouths, the wet slaps of his cock meeting your hole, the bed creaking under the force of deku's thrusts, even just the the sound of your thighs rubbing against him.
"can i cum in you?" he asks, drawing you away for a split moment of the carnal passion. without even thinking you give him a resounding yes as he further proceeds to drill you, the way his cock met all your sensitive spots leaving you close to a climax as you wrap your legs around him. his thrusts become uneven and clearly seeking his own climax, he buries his head into the crook of your neck. the revelation of him using you for his own pleasure throws you over the edge, a poorly-hidden moan leaving your lips.
suddenly he shoves his head deep into your crook as he lets out a soft whine as you felt his cum shoot deep within your hole. his pace considerably slows before he pulls out, leaving you both panting softly in the warm lustful heat of the room. he soon then moves to go clean himself.
there rarely was much in terms in aftercare other than him offering you a hot wet towel to clean yourself with before he either leaves or crawls into bed to rest. it was in the aftermath you remember that outside of this room you mean nothing to him, and only exist as a hole for him to fuck. you sometimes wonder if you're his only side piece or if you're one side piece out of a list.
two hours into laying into bed with him, you couldn't sleep since your mind was too far deep into thinking about the implications of your relationship with him. you heard a soft snore leave his mouth, signifying his resting state. you take that as an opportunity to get up and sit in the dark away from him. you find yourself right by the window looking out at the resting dark world, watching the tiny cars from the 6th floor and the bright neon lights from the various buildings located around the motel.
you've seen his interviews before, mostly the ones with him and his wife, pro-hero uravity. on camera they seem like an old married couple, he seems so soft and loving around her. in interviews where she isn't present, he always seems to find a way to bring up his wife, talking about how wonderful she is. he seems so amazing and kind under the eye of a camera, but you suppose this is a lesson in perspective.
though you would never have the opportunity to ask, and you're sure this will end eventually, you wonder what led him to cheating on his wife with you. you feel terrible about you knowingly sleeping with another woman's husband, but you try to justify it to yourself; you're not the initiator so it's not like you're solely at fault right? plus it's all just carnal acts, it's not like there's any feelings attached so it's not that bad, right?
regardless you continuously find yourself gazing out into that sleeping world beyond this motel room of yours with a man you barely know, contemplating the morality of sleeping with a married man.
alright but imagine tho youâre aizawaâs little detective partner. youâre both practically married to both of your work but that works out well for both of you. itâs not uncommon for you to be in the same room quietly working on something, and even though you guys arenât necessarily doing anything together, the silence is valued. itâs not uncommon for both of you to come home near the exact time in the dawn after doing a graveyard shift, and for you both to just fall into bed and wrap around each other.Â
after a rough case and feeling completely drained, he will always lend an ear and let you vent your frustrations, knowing your feelings very well. then just when youâre finished he always gives you a plate of food, which always warms you up since itâs all just a symbol of his silent yet deep love for you. he shows his love for you as opposed to saying much.Â
date nights tend to be quiet and at home since you both know the outside world can be hectic and loud. preferring the peace itâs not uncommon for you two to just be cuddled up on the couch and either reading books or watching whatever soap of the week is on. though seemingly unromantic to an outside world, this is heaven for both of you. where work tends to drain the both of you, itâs nice for you two to have an evening dedicated to nothing.
so...bakugo has a problem with spoiling you. and at first, bakugo thinks that sort of thing is outrageous. heâs not a fan of pda, gifts, or anniversaries. that could probably be partial because he never had a good enough girlfriend that lasted long enough to celebrate these things with, so he just never saw the need for them.
all of his friends would gush about how much they looked forward to the cards from their significant other, the flowers, and the shower of compliments, but he didnât seem to affect by it that much.
and, sure, maybe sometimes he wanted to spend it with somebody. sometimes he longed to hold somebodyâs hand when he was working late into the early hours of the morning, a comfort he had longed for ever since he outgrew the childish need for touch. but, he was a busy man. he couldnât outwardly look for something like that until it fell right into his lap.
yeah, well, that was until you.
and when you literally bumped into him on an early morning jog, looking off somewhere else to notice the 6â5 foot brute coming your way. he wasnât sure how he managed to work his way through the awkward small talk, especially when you were such a cheerful person (at five in the morning, no less), and he had a date with you the following night. it turned into frequent meetings at each other's apartments, you spending some nights at his office, sprawled over the couch in the corner as you ranted about the annoying women at your work who kept piling shifts on you. and, much to katsuki's chagrin, he fell for you. in the way he promised himself heâd never fall for anybody. but it's fine, he'll be there to catch himself until it gets too much.
until he couldn't and you became his only lifeline. falling didn't seem to be so bad if somebody was gonna be there to catch him - undeniably cheesy, he's well aware - and he finally understood why kiri was raging on and on about his girlfriend. finally.
"for you," he said one night, a black velvet sitting on his palm, open-faced as he looked up at you eagerly, a tad bit of worry in his eyes as he was terrified you weren't going to like it.
and he was suddenly becoming a little nauseous because you weren't saying anything and although the pearl necklace was really light it was sinking into his hand.
"um, babe...." you pause, your fingers dancing over the chain of the necklace as you worriedly look up into his red eyes, "am i forgetting something?"
and he shook his head, taking the initiative as he moves behind you, taking the pieces of delicate jewelry out from its box as he gets to work with his fingers, surprisingly nimble as he latches the lock together, his hands shaking a bit as he tries to catch a glimpse of your view in mirror adjacent to the two of you.
"nah," he presses a hot kiss to the place where your neck meets your collarbone, snuggling deep into it, almost feeling feral at the smell of your perfume as his arms pull you closer to his chest, "just a little somethin' i thought ya'd like."
so after that, he's dead set on gifts, after all, he's just got so much money and nothing to spend it on, so you've become the prime focus of his bank account.
and every time you tell him you don't want gifts, that you try to push them off, he doesn't listen, saying that it's the least he could do since he can't actually give you the world (no matter how much he wants to). he knows you're not materialistic, far from it, but he doubts there's somebody in the world that actively hates receiving gifts.
if your eyes linger on a channel coat or burberry perfume he's quick to put it in the cart. he'll observe you, see what things you secretly try to fawn over, and makes sure to surprise it with it the next time you come to his office. pulling it out of his desk drawer, wrapped in a bow as he winks with his signature, "for you."
because the thing is, bakugo doesn't really know how to show his love. he's not good with his words or emotions because he's still working on those, but even if your scowl is lined with an all-grateful smile whenever he gifts you something, he knows he must be doing something right.
just give him some time, and he'll figure everything else out. he just needs to learn how you show affection, and learn other ways of expressing it (minus the gifts, he's not giving that up).
so, for now, take those prada boots without complaint. 'cause there's a pair of versace pumps waiting for you next to your nightstand. all wrapped and pretty, just for you, from your loving 'ki.
Idea credits @izukuisbaby here // this ask by @alilouche
âą Katsuki is trying to reassure you that itâll be fine but heâs nervous about his Mumâs opinion on the person he loves, she may be an old hag, but sheâs HIS old hag and he cares about her opinion so much.
âą When she opens the door to you two she looks like the scariest person ever
âą Most intimidating woman youâve ever seen
âą She thought Katsuki was lying about having a s/o
âą Sheâs really excited that someone actually likes her son
âą She thinks youâre the cutest
âą Highkey wants you to be her newest model
âą If you compliment her in any way you now have her heart too
âą Loves you more than Katsuki
âą Honestly she probably shows you photos of baby Katsu just to annoy him
âą You end up exchanging numbers and she texts you to tell Katsuki stuff bc heâs ignoring her đ
âą Mitsuki becomes like a second mother to you and katsukiâs mad sheâs hogging you
Bakugo does not know what to do with you. You were the pretty, very sweet and timid assistant that his office had hired for him 6 months ago.
Most assistance didnât make it past a few weeks, let alone months due to Bakugoâs nature. Itâs not that he meant to be a dick but being a top 10 hero was hard enough without all of the extra bullshit he had to deal with and sometimes he snapped and maybe blew up a few assistances personal items, like phones and work desks. He always replaced them right away (It wasnât a secrete that his team had a large budget for expendables because of his explosive nature).
The first time you witnessed this behavior he accidentally caused your work laptop to explode during a photo shoot that the top 10 heroâs had to be in he expected you to quit right then and there. After the damage was done you looked at the charred mess on the ground, tears threatening to brim over and escape down your full blushed cheeks. You had walked away to get a few minutes to yourself, Bakugo staring helplessly after you. His body instantly filled with regret and shame as he looked around and noticed everyone was staring.
âOi, pay attention fucking attention to the photographers.â Bakugo snapped as he walked away to go find you.
He found you just right outside of the room, sitting on the stairs that led to the second floor of the building, staring out the window to the beautiful fall day that you guys were having. You watched a few leaves drift in the wind as if they were dancing a dance only they knew of before falling to the floor, continuing to move.
âHey.â Bakugo said, not trying to startle you but letting you know he was there.
You looked to him, your eyes a little red from a few tears that did escape before you calmed yourself down. Your cheeks were still a bit pink, and a few tear stains marked them.
âIâm sorry for losing my cool, I just hate this shit. I donât understand why Heroes have to do this shit if they become popular enough. I just want to be saving people, not dealing with having to keep my personality in favor of the people. But, me going off and destroying your work wasnât the right thing to do, I hope you didnât lose too much work and I get it if you want to end your contract early. I bet I could get you a job with someone less violent, like that damn nerd Deku or somthinââ This was the most you had ever heard Bakugo say in one go and the sincere apology made you smile softly.
âNo worries, thatâs what the cloud is for. Everything should be backed up.â You muttered quietly, not looking at him as you did so. âWe should probably go back inside and finish this up, then you can go home and I can buy a new laptop.â
Bakugo stared at you, surprised you had not quit as he spoke âyeah, letâs finish this shit up and then we can go get you a laptop. Iâll expense the company.â
You never spoke, unless spoken too, and were kind of timid when you did but it was your gentle and sweet nature that drew Bakugo in, like a moth to a flame.
He spent many nights thinking of you, thinking about what you did once you were home in your apartment. He knew you lived with a roommate but had never gotten the name, or even gender, due to your reserve nature. He wondered what type of clothes you slipped into to get comfortable. If you were a matching set kind of PJs or if you just threw on a big shirt and called it good.
He liked to imagine you in one of his shirts, you swimming in the material as it engulfed your tiny frame and ended just above your mid thigh. These thoughts often left him hot and bothered as if he was a school boy again fantasizing about what was below the shirt.
Bakugo had lost count of the times he had to jack off because of you, you had become his favorite obsession and he wasnât sure what drew him in.
You were obviously attractive, but if he had to pin it down he would say the fact that you were so opposite of him is what did him in. Your soft voice reminded him of a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. You werenât a hundred percent sure of yourself but it was that fact that drew Bakugo closer. He wanted nothing more than to be your protector in this world.
Maybe one day he would tell you all of this, but the fear of you rejecting him made him halt and just allow things to progress how they were going to.
For now, he would listen to you as you told him basically how his life ran at the office and enjoy the sweet moments.
synopsis: you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while heâs at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.
tags: AFAB reader, no quirk au, single dad aizawa (+ adopted daughter eri, + prev. foster son hitoshi), professional nanny reader, falling in love, fluff and angst, slice of life, child ptsd + past child abuse (eri), aged-up characters, best friends touya + rumi, brief talk of a parent with addiction (hitoshi), domesticity, handling of child trauma, finding your place in a family, eventual smut, vaginal oral sex (reader receiving), a lot of kissing, no power dynamicÂ
wc: 20k+ (oops)Â
The address the agency had given you is still open and blinking in your Maps app, a congratulatory finish-line flash to indicate the end of your journey. Given the lack of response after five minutes of firm knocking, youâd have half a mind to consider that perhaps, this was the wrong house.Â
âMaybe I should callâŠâ you mutter under your breath, fiddling with the touch screen and huffing as you rebalance the slipping rucksack back onto your shoulder. Despite all your years of professional nannying, the first face to face meeting always left you slightly anxious. Youâd been granted access to your new employers profile after your initial verbal interview â Japanese male in his thirties, over six foot tall and employed as a criminology professor at an esteemed university, unmarried with a single adopted daughter â but all the contact youâd had with Aizawa had been either mediated by the agency or over the phone. No photographs. The only thing you truly knew about the man thus far was the low baritone of his voice.
Not forgetting the air-tight requirements that came with caring for his daughter. You had been chosen specifically for your experiences with vulnerable children, and apparently for the fact that you held some modicum of self defence skills. A protective parent, then. While the gritty details had not yet been shared with you, it didnât take much to put two and two together. Eri, a young girl of only six years, would be in need of more than just someone to keep her occupied; you would have to be a genuine care giver, someone she could really trust. Another adult in her life that signified safety.Â
The title of a âNannyâ was typically looked down upon. Armed with a bachelor's degree and qualifications in child development, professionals still viewed you as nothing more than a glorified babysitter. But you loved your job, and not just because you were good at it. You liked the kids. Their odd sense of humour and their thought processes, their imaginations and the lens through which they viewed life. You enjoyed expanding their worlds, and the simple yet joyful way that they would expand your own.Â
More than that, the kids liked you. They appreciated your honesty, how you would treat them with respect and truly make the effort to listen to their thoughts. Given that your services were hired, the adults around them were often too caught up in their careers and personal affairs to indulge in anything more than provision of the basics. It wasnât something you could judge them for â the new parents you have worked with in the past were genuinely wonderful and most, if not all, carried a large amount of guilt for having to leave their children at home.Â
You only hoped that you could help this family, too.Â
Tongue pressed into cheek, the pad of your thumb hovers over the contact name. Aizawa Shouta. Just as you're about to hit call, you are startled backwards by a series of weighted clicks. Counting, it sounds like there are two locks alongside the turning of a key, and soon you are meeting the gaze of a slightly dishevelled man.Â
He appears out of sorts, as if heâd only just woken up. You think, absentmindedly, that he is handsome. Broad and built beneath his loose black shirt, square framed glasses low on the bridge of his nose and overnight stubble shadowing his jaw. He pushes the hair loosely curtaining his face back and tucks it behind both ears, sleeves rolled haphazardly to his elbows. The good looks are almost enough to distract you from the neon pink sweatpants.Â
âAh⊠hi,â you smile sheepishly, straightening your back and withholding a wince as your bag almost slides from your shoulder a second time. âYouâre Aizawa Shouta, I presume? We spoke over the phoneâ.Â
The man grunts an affirmative, scratching idly at his cheek. He inhales deeply, sharp eyes almost too quick to catch as they appraise you in the doorway. âYeah. Youâre from UAtots?âÂ
You nod, âI amâ.Â
He mirrors the action, though the movement of his head is heavier, swaying him forward. Part of you is concerned heâs falling asleep on his feet. âSorry to keep you waiting,â stepping back into the threshold, he beckons you into the house, âwe were taking an afternoon catnapâ.Â
You step inside, a zip of apprehension along your spine at the proximity. Heâs warm at your back where he waits to lock the door behind you. âCatnap?â you smile, sliding off your shoes and lining them up neatly by the others. You step aside so he can bypass you into the hallway, inhaling to steady your nerves and catching the smell of his cologne.Â
âEri likes to sync weekend meal times alongside the cats so she can nap with them afterwards, since eating makes her tired,â he explains, walking you further into the house, his voice entirely monotonous as if the answer should have been clear to you. âIâm sure if this goes smoothly youâll be subject to plenty of them yourselfâ. Â
Well, youâre not sure you could object being paid to nap.Â
Youâre shown to the living area, finding it littered with evidence of a young child. Toys, colouring pencils, storybooks. Chaotic, but it is organised chaos. Splayed out in the centre of the main room is a double futon, covered with wrinkled mismatched blankets that have been thrown aside. You take note of the shelves and bridge-like structures built into the walls, some leading to little alcoves or cushioned platforms. One looks to be occupied by a mass of black fur.Â
Right, cats. Aizawa hums contemplatively. âShe mustâve run off to her room after I left to answer the door. Not a fan of strangersâ.Â
âCanât say I am either,â you reply empathetically, chewing the skin of your inner lip at his lack of response. He guides you towards the kitchen; somewhat narrow in comparison to the other rooms, but still bright where the sun bleeds in from the large patio doors. The cabinets are a deep green, almost black in colour, and there are potted plants dotted along the windowsill. One particular pot has a small sign pierced into the damp soil that reads property of eri.Â
In your distraction, Aizawa has returned to your side with a full binder of paperwork. He sets it on the counter and pulls back the cover, revealing a numbered contents page. âI donât expect youâll read this now, but itâs a detailed folder of Eriâs circumstances and conditions,â he continues on the end of a shallow sigh, âIâve also written up a list of instructions for a number of issues that might arise in my absence, along with emergency phone numbers â both my personal and my office, as well as some others in case you canât reach meâ.Â
The folder was fine. Appreciated, actually. You had endured far more peculiar parents than him, and his anxious preparation warmed you. Nerves were always to be expected, and not just from the children.Â
âIâll make sure I familiarise myself before my next visit. Thank you, Aizawa-san,â you say, awkwardly gripping the strap of your bag. Drawn to the movement, his eyes squint somewhat at the things you were still carrying.Â
âDrop the honorifics, I hear that enough at work. And youâre welcome to leave your bag somewhere. Take a seat and Iâll bring out something to drinkâ.Â
Sitting on the far left of the couch, your rucksack tucked beneath the side table to avoid any accidents, you spend the brief wait absorbing the smaller details of the room. A fair few of your wealthier clients were largely minimalist, their homes brimming with things that sticky fingers should not touch. This house, while big for a two person family, is lived in. You think there might be nothing better than a well loved space.Â
When he hands you the hot mug of herbal tea, your fingers slip through the ringed handle with care. Even the kitchenware is well loved, a pattern of multicoloured paw prints surely but steadily scrubbed away from the ceramic with each use. âThanks,â you murmur, ducking to blow against the rising steam.Â
The cushions dip as he sits adjacent to you, appropriately distanced. âEri will be out once sheâs ready,â he tells you after a drawn out sip of his drink. You canât help but wonder how it didnât scald his mouth. âI thought I could tell you a bit more in the meantimeâ.
You nod eagerly and take a sip of your own. It burns, and your tongue numbs.Â
âIâve legally been Eriâs father for around a year and a half now, and sheâs not a difficult kid by any means. Though she is quiet and struggles with anxiety sheâs still kind, still curious,â his voice drops into something gentle, staring at the rumpled blankets and warming at the sight. âSheâs always thinking of others first. She loves to read fantasy books about heroes and villains. Her imagination is vast, and because she canât write well yet she has taken to acting out storiesâ.
âVery rarely does she fuss, and she loves to help with chores and cooking, which I canât complain about, but,â Aizawa continues to speak and you drink while you listen, the tea cooled and more tolerant as you swallow, ââŠit doesnât sit right knowing theyâre done in an effort to placate meâ.
To placate, to appease. To keep the peace, and keep their caregiver happy. After all, a happy caregiver is one that doesnât raise their voice, or their hand. âItâs entirely normal for you to think that,â you offer comfort in the brief silence, âyou arenât the first parent who has felt that wayâ.Â
He finally turns his head to meet your gaze, and you find yourself remaining firm under his scrutiny. Then, imperceptibly, his eyes soften. âI just want her to feel safe. To act her age and enjoy her childhood,â then you hear a huff that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, âI might actually shed a tear the day she finally throws a tantrumâ.Â
You laugh with him, close mouthed and short. An amused hum to cover the twist in your chest. Working with vulnerable children never got any easier to stomach. Some would respond to neglect by loudly seeking your attention, creating mess and yelling until their stomachs hurt. Others, like Eri, would shape themselves into timid dolls that never spoke out of turn, because attention often meant harm.Â
With lips parted to speak, youâre stopped short by an inconspicuous creak from the hallway. Observing from behind the door frame, only partially visible from where youâre sitting, is a little girl with silver hair. Your eyes meet, and she flinches back into hiding.Â
âOne secâŠâ Aizawa mutters offhandedly as he gets to his feet, first leaning down to set his cup on the floor. Footfalls loud enough to be heard, the slight clearing of his throat to announce his approach, he slips into the hallway.Â
Like him, you place your drink down and listen. Minutes pass, and while you arenât privy to the conversation you do hear a pair of muffled voices. Aizawaâs tone is soothing, and he waits patiently for his daughter's timid responses. Eventually, he reappears with her shielded behind his thigh, and weaving between her feet is another cat; chunky, flat faced and grey. Unperturbed by the uncomfortable atmosphere, it slinks into the room to sniff the abandoned mugs and ignores your presence.Â
Wordlessly asking permission to greet her, Aizawa encourages you forward with the tilt of his head. Luckily, you had a fool proof introduction when it came to children, one that covered all the bases. Eriâs grip on her fathers pink sweatpants visibly tightens as you close the distance, but she doesnât run.Â
Lowering yourself to her height, you begin with a smile and your name, then you give her your birthday. What follows is your favourite animal, then your favourite colour, one thing you like and one thing you donât.Â
Itâs easy, simple, and likens you to them in a way they can understand. To a young kid, thatâs all the important stuff.Â
Knowing more about you seems to set her at ease somewhat, and she steps out from behind her father after an encouraging look from him. In an abrupt motion she considers holding out her hand, but then chooses to clutch the hem of her knitted sweater.Â
âMy name is Erâ Aizawa Eri. My birthday is the twenty-first of DecemberâŠâ she glances towards Aizawa once again for his approval, only continuing with his assurance. âI like cats and the colour green. I think apples are the best fruit and⊠I donât like mean peopleâ.Â
You nod, humming in agreement to assuage her anxiety. âMean people can be pretty scary. And I like cats, too,â â the grey-coated feline by the futon chooses that moment to yowl, pawing at Aizawaâs half empty mug â âI havenât been able to properly meet yours yet. Iâd love it if you could introduce usâ.Â
Give her a chance to control the narrative, and in doing so allow her to tell you about something she feels confident about. Itâs an infinitesimal thing, but all things are so much bigger when youâre young.Â
She straightens her back, shoulders no longer hunched forward to make herself appear small. Unobtrusive. No â there is now a dim glimmer of pride in her eyes as she shuffles forward, leading you back over near the sofa and pointing ahead at the noise-maker.Â
âThatâs Bastard. Heâs old and kinda grumpy but thatâs just âcause heâs scared,â Eri looks almost as if she is pleading with you, concerned you might misunderstand her beloved petâs behaviour. âSome people hurt him before, so⊠so heâs just trying to protect himself. If youâre slow and let him sniff you I think itâll be okayâ.Â
Some people hurt him, huh. Your thoughts subdue your initial amusement, though you try not to let it show in your expression. Heeding Eriâs guidance, you crouch at her side and allow her to extend your arm towards Bastard with her chubby fingers clasped around your wrist. He glares suspiciously between the two of you, but eventually his tail lifts into a clear signal of hello as he leans forward to huff at your fingertips.Â
He turns his nose up at you in what you read as disgust and stalks off to the other end of the room, but according to Eriâs bouncing feet it was a success. âHe didnât bite you or anything,â she pats your shoulder in a reassuring manner and Aizawa snorts as he collapses into the sofa cushions.Â
Youâre pointed in the direction of the other cat â the black mass that has been curled into a ball atop one of the shelved platforms since you arrived. âHer name is Sourpuss. She likes to sleep a lot and we cuddle sometimes,â she explains seriously, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Following a pause she adds, âdonât worry. She wonât bite you eitherâ.Â
âIâm glad to hear it,â you reply, a pleasant kindling in your chest at her efforts, âI look forward to getting to know you all betterâ.Â
âBastard and Sourpuss arenât related but they are brother and sister. Just like me and âToshi, right?â Eri glances over to her father to wordlessly seek his reassurance, cheeks dipped in pink. For a moment, the exhaustion in Aizawaâs body seems to bleed away, and he smiles affectionately.Â
âExactly right, Eri,â he murmurs.Â
You straighten your knees at the sound of Bastardâs mewling, rewarded quickly with Eriâs devoted attention. Returning to your place on the couch, you lean towards him and subtly ask about the aforementioned âToshiâ.Â
âHe was already my foster son when I first took in Eri as a foster. I cared for him on and off from age fifteen to eighteenâ. Recognising your poorly veiled curiosity, he adds, âHitoshi used to watch her for me but he recently started university. Her psychologist suggested someone more permanent and better equipped for her careâ.Â
You nod amicably, turning to watch Eri as she offers her own small hand to the older cat. Bastard leans forward with nostrils flared, turning his head into her palm, and she beams. A stark contrast to how the feline felt about you. With the hope that you arenât overstepping you ask, âYou didnât adopt him too?âÂ
âFostering isnât just a doorway to adoption,â he replies. In your periphery you see the beginnings of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he observes his daughter. âMore than anything, I think itâs about keeping families together. Hitoshi was old enough to decide for himself, and I still view him as a son regardless of the legalitiesâ.Â
Somehow, the answer leaves you feeling scolded. âRight, of course,â you bow your head slightly in apology and his lips thin into a subtle smirk. Smothering the spark of irritation, at both his amusement and your own attraction, you push the conversation forward. âThen, uh. Will I be meeting him too, eventually?âÂ
âIâd assume so. If he does visit Iâll make sure you know in advanceâ.Â
For the remainder of your afternoon visit, you observe their family dynamic with a keen eye. Eriâs shell does not fracture much, but you donât take personal offence to it. Sheâs polite and friendly, often giving the answers she thinks you want to hear. You eventually join her amongst the blankets, recalling how she found confidence in helping around the house.Â
âShall we put these away together?â you suggest. The little girl smiles and spring comes again. Under the moving sunspots cast through the living room window, the two of you get to work folding up the cotton linens. Eri is so preoccupied that for the first time that day, she doesnât realise when her father leaves the room to wash up the mugs.Â
You understood Aizawaâs initial worry with Eriâs need to prove her worth around the house; but you also think, perhaps, she is just grateful and happy to help him.Â
When you leave, they both walk you to the front door. Your first goodbye to her is a perfect rendition of your first hello â little hand fisted into neon pink, shielded by the man she trusts the most. âWill you come back?â she asks quietly.Â
âIf your dad is happy for me to,â â excitement pushes Eri onto the tip of her toes, her head barely reaching Aizawaâs hip â âwhen I do, we should read some stories togetherâ.Â
Later that night, after a long hot shower to swiftly rid you of the tension in your spine, you settle into a heap of cotton and pillows with Eriâs binder. The cover is hard, like cardboard, and coloured blue. Itâs heavy in your lap, and you find that daunting. Not because you donât think you can handle it, but because you already want to do right by them both.Â
After the contents page comes the emergency contacts. You recognise Hitoshiâs name, and beside each other person is their immediate relation to Aizawa and Eri. Her school office. His best friends. Aunts. Uncles. Coworkers. A part of you unravels with the knowledge that the two have such a support system in place.Â
Then comes the lists. Food Eri does not like â she enjoys sweet things but tart is much too sour for her palate â and the medication she can not take. There are steps to follow if ever she gets sick, instructions on where to find the first aid kit and her favourite hot water bottle. More important than anything else, there is a page dedicated to summarising her triggers and subsequently how to handle them. No sudden touch, noise cancelling headphones always on her person, explain what youâre doing and why as you do it.Â
Itâs incredibly comprehensive. The latter part of the binder is made up of her initial caseworkers notes, or observations from her psychologist that are important to her care. You learn that Eri might sometimes dissociate, is prone to freezing up when frightened and struggles with communicating her emotions. There are scars littering her body that need to be tended to once a day with steroid cream, but Aizawa notes that he will do that himself. She has little appetite and no tolerance for the dark, spending a lot of her earlier days in her father's care completely withdrawn and selectively mute.Â
Given her history you canât blame him for covering all his bases; part of you wonders if he had put all this together in order to test you, to see whether the responsibility would scare you off. He would be mistaken, if that were the case. After all, youâd promised to befriend Bastard by the yearsâ end.Â
The next time you see Aizawa Shouta, he is in fitted suit pants and a dress shirt. It is sharp and tailored, accentuating the broad strokes of his shoulders and the dip of his waist. As he bends an arm to fiddle with the cuff, the material strains around his bicep. He looks handsome, and decidedly uncomfortable.
âGood morning,â he mutters, turning away from you expectantly. You amble after him once the door is shut, walking into the kitchen. Throat bared and leaning against the counter, he quickly downs the remnants of his coffee with an dissatisfied sigh.Â
âBad nights sleep?â
A brow lifts as he glances up at you. You try not to focus on the absentminded swipe of his thumb at the corner of his mouth. âAlways,â he replies. âYou want some?âÂ
Your mouth thins as you try not to smirk. âNo, thatâs okay. Thank you though,â you follow the movement of his hands as he leaves the mug in the sink, then extends his arms to expose his wrists and roll the cuffs mid forearm. Despite arriving at the time heâd given you, he appeared to be in a rush. You make a note to come earlier tomorrow, if only to make things a little smoother.Â
Eriâs footfalls are light, barely audible as she totters into the kitchen â you try not to think about the implications â and she stops short when she sees you. âGood morning Eri,â you greet warmly.Â
âGood morning,â she mumbles.Â
âYou look very cute,â dressed in burgundy dungarees over a white long sleeved shirt, cuffed at the ankle to reveal frilly cream coloured socks, her hair has been tied haphazardly into two long pigtails. âI like your Sailor Pluto clips!âÂ
âThank youâŠâ she pokes at the clips on her crown self consciously, timidly pleased at your recognition of them.
Aizawa circles around you both as he heads back into the hallway, âSailor Pluto? I thought she was called Sailor Moonâ.
Eri follows at his heels. âNo dad, Sailor Moon has yellow hair,â she corrects him kindly, waiting by the coat rack as he bends to slip into his dress shoes. âBut itâs okay, I get them mixed up sometimes tooâ.Â
Her attitude is a testament to his parenting. In the short time youâve spent with them he has only ever spoken to Eri respectfully, in a manner that grants her agency. He clearly allows her to make decisions herself and experience the consequences of them, bad or good.Â
Before he has the chance to reach for his bag, Eri releases an abrupt sound of protest and grabs it herself. Both of her hands fit around the long handle with room to spare, and it drags by her feet as she gives it to him.Â
âI appreciate that sweetheart,â he replies, taking one of the jackets from the hooks and linking it through the crook of his arm. âWhich one did I like best again?â
âSailor Saturn!âÂ
Dark hair curtaining his sober expression, he nods sagely and repeats, âSailor Saturnâ.Â
They are so caught up that, for a few minutes, you are nothing but a fly on the wall. Itâs endearing, the interactions sitting warm like honey-lemon tea in your chest. At the sound of your laugh, Aizawaâs eyes snap over to your silhouette in the kitchen doorway. Eri glances between the two of you, and appears to hamfist the precious little courage she has to ask you, âWhoâ whoâs your favourite?âÂ
âI really loved Luna the cat,â you say. Her mouth forms the shape of an âoâ before it spreads into a small smile. You get the inkling there was no wrong answer; you feel accomplished anyway.Â
âRight,â Aizawa cradles his hand against her head to garner her attention. She peers up at him, eyes wide. âHer teacher is aware youâre going to be picking her up but youâll need to give her the code just to be safe,â he says, settling the strap of the satchel across his chest. âItâs âcandy applesââ.Â
âGot itâ.Â
Gentle, he pinches her cheek between his thumb and forefinger. âBe good, alright?â Eri hums, giving her enthusiastic agreement, âhave a fun day at school. And make sure you hold hands when you cross the roadsâ.Â
âYou too dad,â her demeanour is slightly more unnerved at his imminent departure, fingers tightly curling and unfurling against her palms. âBe good at workâ.Â
He laughs â low and undeniably fond, almost like a purr in his chest â and then he leaves.Â
Eri is cautious in his absence, but she still answers when you speak and smiles when you look at her. You can see what Aizawa meant by her placating nature â sheâs scared to upset you, because she doesnât yet know your boundaries. There was not enough time to have that discussion before school, but you endeavoured to do it some point later.Â
Her bag is garish, block colours of red blue and yellow. Different from her Sailor Moon accessories, the bento and backpack are distinctly Hero themed. Hanging from the zip is a cat keychain that looks suspiciously like Bastard, and it bounces as she moves.Â
The walk isnât too far. The early air is still tepid and the morning traffic has mostly dispersed. You see other parents with their children, laughing and scolding and sprinting ahead. Eri remains at your side, hand in hand, and quietly tells you about a dream she had the night before.Â
Confoundedly, âDad told me he doesnât have dreamsâ.Â
âMaybe he does dream, but he forgets them as soon as he wakes up,â you reply. Her nose wrinkles slightly in a way that suggests she is thinking quite hard, and eventually she nods.Â
A staff member waiting by the gate recognises Eri and bids you both good morning, motioning for her to join her classmates. âIâll see you after school, alright?â you say. The hand clutching at your fingers squeezes twice before letting go.Â
You linger for a few seconds longer, only to observe as Eri runs up to one boy in particular. His cap is red, too big for him and adorns two horns at the front. When she dips her head forward, you know itâs to show off her hair clips.Â
With five hours to spare, you decide to utilise the time by clearing up the house. Thereâs not much mess but itâs better than nothing, and if you spent most of it nosing around the spots youâve yet to see, thatâs no oneâs business but your own â aside from Bastard and Sourpuss, who still deign to return your affections and settle for stalking you at a distance. Â
Mounted bridges and tastefully placed hiding spots can be found in most of the rooms; Aizawaâs respect for individual space clearly extended to his pets as well. There are fragments of them everywhere, in tchotchkes and photographs and framed stick figure pictures. You catch glimpses of the other people in their lives, of Eri much younger than she is now, of a too-big violet haired boy curled up in one of the cat beds.Â
In each new room, you make sure to tidy up somewhat. Aizawa seemed the type to be particular about what fell under the definition of mess and what did not, and in that vein you stay away from reorganising anything that looks important, but it doesnât stop you from picking up any stray socks.Â
One place you do not enter is Aizawaâs bedroom. Eriâs, however, has been left wide open.Â
The first thing you see is the feelings chart taped to the door, a small magnet with her likeness has been stuck in the ânervousâ box. Inside is surprisingly neat for a child her age. Cohesive. There are hues of yellow and grey along the walls, a white canopy hung over a brass ring in the corner of the room to curtain a pile of pillows. Her bookshelf is full, the pages are worn, and her plush toys have been organised in a line from big to small on her mattress.Â
There is a faux vine of leaves threaded through the bed frame, dotted with small LED lights. She must like plants, you think, recalling the greenery in the kitchen. Youâd have to look it up, or ask her father.Â
Aizawa hadnât requested you do any specific chores, but you donât do well with idle hands. So you throw the collected laundry in the washer, clean and dry the plates and cutlery from breakfast, and refill the coffee machine with the beans kept in the cupboard. Itâs the good stuff, expensive. You almost regret not accepting his offer that morning, but the dregs left in his mug smelt far too bitter.Â
At the start, as youâre acclimating to the chosen family, you are always left slightly aimless. Floundering. Especially with parents that have never hired a nanny before; they seldom understand how much the role entails, and struggle with letting go of certain responsibilities.Â
Thus, with precious little left to do, you end up leaving early to pick up Eri later that afternoon and taking the long route. You press the divots of the house key into your palm as you walk, metal cool in the late spring sun. With time to observe, you admit that Aizawaâs neighbourhood is undeniably beautiful. Passing a large nearby park, eyeing the climbing frames and slides and triple seated swings, you wonder if Eri would like to go there with you on occasion. Thereâs even a quaint, sectioned off area of land privated for communal gardening.Â
Maybe, on your scheduled weekends, you could take her to other places too. The aquarium, the movies or the science museum. Youâd have to ask Aizawaâs permission.Â
Waiting behind the gate is another member of staff, different from the woman stationed there this morning but she greets you amiably all the same. Other parents are flocking into the grounds, some grouping together for small talk while others â such as yourself â lingered off to the side and waited alone.Â
When the children begin rushing through the school doors, it is organised by class number. Eventually you spot the little boy with the horned cap rushing towards his own guardian, but no Eri with him. Instead she is led out hand in hand with whom you presume is her teacher. You smile as she points in your direction and waves, jostling the cat charm on her bag strap.Â
The woman greets you first, a slight accent to her words that you canât place. German, maybe. âHi! Iâm Eriâs teacher, Amano-san. You must be the new nanny Iâve heard all aboutâ.Â
âThat would be me,â you lower your head into a subtle bow, offering your name in a much more formal introduction than the one Eri had received. âIâll be picking Eri up regularly from now on. Itâs good to meet youâ.Â
âAnd you,â Amano grins, the movement pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. At a second glance, you notice a thin silver chain attached to the frames and looping around her neck. Coupled with a green pantsuit and the specks of paint along the lapels, you suspect Eriâs teacher may be the more eccentric type. Easy-going and comforting.Â
âI hope you donât mind but I have to ask for Aizawa-san's passcode,â Amano motions flippantly with her free hand as she speaks, lowering her voice conspiratorially, âitâs just school policy, ya see. Canât let the baby go without it â only for the first few pickups while the staff get to know youâ.Â
âThatâs perfectly fine. He informed me you might ask,â Eriâs head pivots back and forth between you both with bright, inquisitive eyes. Giving her what you hope to be a secretive look, pointer finger pressed to your lips and voice hushed, you add, âthe code is âcandy applesââ.
Rewarded with a minute grin, Eri toddles over to your side as soon as Amano lets go of her and bids you both goodbye. Reflexively, you reach to fix her pigtails where theyâve come loose but think better of it â she does not react well to sudden touch. âOh,â you pause to count the remaining clips in her hair. âOne of your Plutoâs is goneâ.Â
âI gave one to Kota⊠heâs my friendâ.Â
Kota. You silently mouth the name, and resolve to remember it. âIs he the boy with the cool hat?âÂ
Eri hums a quiet affirmative, peering up at you and shyly extending her hand. You take it, giving a gentle squeeze. âThat was very nice of you to do,â you tell her.Â
âDad said love grows by sharing,â she replies. You notice that when she speaks about her father, her voice is a little louder. Proud, even. âThatâs why he always lets me have his last purâ Purin cupâ.Â
You try to picture Aizawa eating something as sweet as crĂšme caramel and bite back a smile. He seems more the coffee jelly type. âYour dad is right. I bet Kota felt very special to have Sailor Plutoâ.Â
You return home the morning route, in consideration of Eriâs short legs and growing exhaustion. Bastard and Sourpuss are theatrically pleased by her arrival, yowling in glee as if sheâd been gone for months. They must recognise that you brought her back, and you try not to preen when the older cat begrudgingly rubs his gums against your ankle.Â
âOkay, Eri. What first? Homework or food?âÂ
She wrings her hands together, pressing palms flat to her stomach. Face pinched, she looks like she wants to ask something of you. âEri?âÂ
âCan IâŠâ her courage diminishes and she glares at the floor, scuffing socked feet against carpet. Lowering your body to her level, knee clicking as you crouch, you wait patiently with a small smile. You can see her internal battle with your own eyes, squeezing her own shut and taking a deep breath.Â
The drawn out exhale follows, and the tension bleeds from her muscles. Still unable to meet your gaze, she asks, âCan I show you my room first?âÂ
You donât tell her you have already seen it. Children deserve to be treated with respect, but some truths were worth keeping. Guided to the grey-yellow painted space, Eri is in her element. Homework and hunger can wait a few more minutes â strengthening her comfortability with you was much more important.Â
Once she starts she canât seem to stop. Eri shows you all her magpie clutches of treasures and brings them to your lap, a back and forth skitter across the room. The knit blanket from when she was an infant, a pretty rock she found with her dad, a friendship bracelet from someone called Izu. Her love has no limit; youâre holding old shells and framed pictures and memory-imbued trinkets. Each one receives equal praise, indulgent sounds of awe that warm her cheeks.Â
âLove grows by sharingâ is what sheâd said. Steadying the heap gathered in your arms, you think you feel your heart swell three sizes.Â
By afternoon's end, Eri is fed and sitting contentedly in the middle of the living room. Aizawa had texted that he would be home soon, so you were simply enjoying the peace until then. Having tucked one of the couch cushions under her knees to alleviate the discomfort, all her focus is on the worksheets splayed out along the floor. Fractions. You grimace, watching Bastard bat at her pencil as it moves with her wrist.Â
Click, click. Eri is at her feet in less than a second. The sound of a key entering a lock and turning, the door jarred open as Aizawa shoulders into the house with arms full of assignments. He doesnât startle as his daughter knocks into him, but he does scowl at the realisation that he canât hug her. You hover cautiously in the hallway, âAhâ do you need some help with those?âÂ
He looks up, the frown smoothing into something a little more vulnerable. Exhausted, but in a different way than he was this morning. You feel a misplaced sense of guilt for not having a cup of coffee ready for him.Â
âNo, I can manage,â he replies, kicking off his shoes and lining them up half heartedly with his foot as he readjusts his grip. âIâll be fine once I can sit downâ.Â
He sets the papers on the far end of the couch and upon reaching the opposite, Aizawa falls back heavily into the cushions with a relieved groan that strums at your centre. You smother the feeling. Eri trails after him with her features pensive, carefully gauging his mood before doing anything further. The moment he limblessly opens his arms to her, she is clambering up beside him and pressing to his side.Â
Intuitively, you hold your breath. You take the opportunity to really appreciate how gentle Aizawa is with his daughter. Cradling the top of her head in a show of affection, his eyes slide from Eri to where you stand in the doorway. Youâre left sheepish under the expectant lift of his brow, all too aware of how awkward youâre being. âHow was it today? Anything happen that I should know about?âÂ
âEverything went well. We held hands to and from school, didnât we?â Eri nods, and the large hand in her hair further disturbs her pigtails, though she doesnât seem to mind. âWeâve eaten our dinner and finished her fractions worksheet for tomorrow. Sheâs been nothing short of a dreamâ.Â
âA dream, hm?â he nudges Eri gently to encourage her to smile, and she does. âAlways isâ.Â
âI metâŠâ your attention is quickly drawn to the tail curling around your leg. Sourpuss barely spares you a glance when she butts your calf, as if to pass it off as a simple accident. You donât bend at the knee to pet her, because you know sheâll scatter and leave you pitifully rejected. âI met Amano-san,â you continue, âI introduced myself since Iâll be seeing more of her. Sheâs very⊠friendlyâ.Â
Aizawaâs mouth lifts in subtle amusement, âSheâs boisterous but a good teacher. Eri loves her,â he pats his thigh as Sourpuss approaches, ready as she leaps onto his lap. Heâs content, relaxed with his head tipped slightly in a way that accentuates his jaw, the shadow of stubble fading down the length of his neck. You quickly drag your thoughts back into the present before they can drift into inappropriate territory, steeling yourself under his gaze in the hopes he hadnât noticed.Â
âYou have your hands full and youâve had a long day, so Iâm happy to see myself out if thatâs everything,â you say.Â
Eriâs eyes widen, her bottom lip slightly jutted. You arenât sure whether she is wordlessly beseeching you to stay, or displeased at the thought of not walking you to the door â either way, you allow yourself some pride for having won some good favour with her so soon.Â
Aizawa must notice, because his hand slides from her crown to soothe along her back. âDonât worry,â he reassures, âtheyâll be back again in the morning, bugâ.Â
Heâs pensive as he appraises you, perhaps looking for what it was in you that his daughter had latched onto. Whatever he does or does not find, he begins to move. Sourpuss chirps a sharp noise of complaint, jostled from her place in his lap and leaping back onto the floor. âCâmon,â he says, getting to his feet and rubbing the nape of his neck as he clicks it to the left. Then, stubbornly, âIâll walk you outâ.Â
The next month and a half with them passes between blinks. You come to learn that even if every day is the same, there are a million ways to do it. And the place you carve into their lives is comfortable. Comforting.Â
Your attraction to Aizawa only festers. It seems that at some point, you had won favour with him, too. He begins leaving you offerings of food without explanation, and in turn you have a pot of coffee ready for when he gets home. He isnât much of a cook and usually sticks to snacks, but occasionally youâll find leftovers with your name written on a postit note.
Love grows by sharing.
Against better judgement you start finding excuses to arrive early and stay later, and sometimes your conversations linger like his gaze, until the only word left to describe the way he looks at you is âfondâ.Â
Venting to your friends does nothing helpful, since they only encourage you to poke further at the relationship just to see where itâd go. Likened to a yellowing bruise on your arm, you knew exactly what would happen if you were to poke it â it would hurt.Â
Worse is, your feelings are not just an unfortunate result of being attracted to Aizawa. You adore Eri, and she likes you too; watches you with wide ruby eyes, collecting your speech patterns and body language like the tchotchkes kept on her shelves. With every reluctant shedding of her shell, a quiet but creative and joyous little girl is slowly unveiled to the world, and you know you want to be there to watch her grow beyond what your contract states.Â
At best, you are teetering on the edge of being very unprofessional. At worst, part of you is already one foot in the door and willing to step forward.Â
Today you were at the park. The grass is damp, sparse dots of moisture littering the pavements. You peer up mid-step and a drop of rain hits your nose, squinting against the light that bursts through the canopy. Thereâs petrichor in the air, fresh and crisp. Eri stands at your side at the crotch of the maple tree, watching quietly as the sun shower passes.Â
âPrettyâŠâ she whispers, stepping towards the edge of shelter with her arm outstretched, fingers splayed like branches to catch the rain. She does this, but not before first seeking your approval, as she did with most things. The evolving comfort she felt with you didnât negate any of the survival instincts sheâd learnt in her earlier developmental years.Â
It hurt to know she didnât get to have that â the new realisation that she was an individual person, with power of her own that she could wield. You were only glad that Aizawa always gave her a chance to make her own choices. She felt far safer accepting such freedom from him, because Eri knows that he trusts her. He trusts that she will eventually get it right, even if it isnât immediate.Â
His unconditional patience when it came to making mistakes, and learning from them, paid off. Youâve no doubt that it came into practice with his own university students, too.Â
âEverything will be too wet to play on now,â your eyes scan the playground, finding the tarmac dark and saturated with water. The sun shifts and bounces sharply off the curve of the slide. You hadnât been there for more than half an hour, so it was a little disappointing. âWhat shall we do instead?âÂ
She rocks on the balls of her feet while she thinks, the end of her sleeve growing damp with every scoop of the oncoming shower. Peeking beneath them are the protective wrappings she keeps around her arms to cover the scars youâve yet to see.Â
Her wet hand curls to form a fist, and she steps back into the shelter of the maple tree. You bend forward and beckon towards you, using the hem of your hoodie to gently dry her off. Minutes pass, and you can tell her lack of a definitive answer is making her nervous. âItâs alright if youâre not sure,â you tell her, quick to assuage whatever thoughts she may be having.Â
âWell, I picked the park soâ so maybe you can pick next?â she hesitantly suggests.Â
âThatâs very considerate!â Eri outwardly preens, tucking her chin to her sternum as she smiles. âI think⊠Iâm craving sweet things today. How about we go home and see if we can bake something?âÂ
Itâs as if the rain takes pause and the skies open just for the two of you. There is no puddle left untouched on your walk home, Eri pulling you ahead by the hand, uncharacteristically hasty. Every time you find something new for her to enjoy you feel like youâve swallowed a drop of sun. Aizawaâs expression in the face of her smile and freshly baked goods make it all the more worth it.Â
Leading up the street towards the house, you squint at the sight of a person. Sitting on the doorstep under the overhang is a violet haired man. Young, still a little youthful in the cheeks. Nineteen or twenty, if you had to guess.Â
ââToshi!â
Eriâs voice draws his attention from the phone in his lap, and when he looks up youâre met by a weathered grin adorned with two vertical rings hugging the left of his bottom lip.Â
The spider bites arenât his only piercings; there are other jewellery cuffed along the shell of his ear, an industrial bar cutting across the cartilage of the other, and glinting in the light are two small spikes through his right eyebrow. Dappled shadows dance across his face, an oversized navy sweater hangs comfortably on his frame and pools around the waist of his tattered jeans.Â
You arenât alarmed when he sweeps Eri into a hug, pleased by her melodic laughter. This was her brother, Hitoshi, presumably, the purple boy youâd seen in some of the framed pictures around the house. Â
âYou must beââ
His voice overlaps your own simultaneously, âYou must be the nannyâ.
Prickly. He stands then, keeping Eri cradled in his arms, her own looped tight around his neck as her feet kick happily either side of his hips. No, you think. Protective. And taller than you realised.Â
âThatâs me,â you reply stiffly. You had no idea he would be visiting today â Aizawa hadnât mentioned anything about it, so you can only assume he isnât aware.Â
Turning to smoosh her cheek against his own and glancing between you both, Eri is emboldened by the stilted atmosphere. She makes a point to introduce you to Hitoshi, reciting your favourite colour and animal word for word. Like flame to wax, her efforts soften the blank exterior and his expression wanes into affection.Â
This time, when he looks at you it is measured. He appraises you much like Aizawa had on your first day. A positive reference from Eri is invaluable, clearly. âIâm Eriâs big brother, Shinsou Hitoshi,â he concedes, the thud of his boots heavy as he steps forward. Readjusting Eri to his hip, he extends a hand and motions to shake your own.Â
Years of professional experience has your grip firm out of sheer habit, while his remains slightly loose, the cool metal of his ring pressed to your palm. âItâs good to meet you. Aizawa mentioned that I might, eventually,â you reply.Â
Hitoshi hums, though not absentmindedly. âSame. Iâve heard a lot about youâ.Â
âMostly good I hope?â you busy yourself with finding the house keys, hoping to get Eri inside to warm up sooner rather than later. âLetâs get you both comfy, then we can get startedâ.
âStarted?â
Stepping into homesâ embrace is a relief, the chill dissipating from your cheeks. âWeâre gonna bake!â Eri chimes her excitement from behind you as you toe your shoes to the side, turning to beckon them both inside. Hitoshi quickly closes the door behind him before the cats can slip past, and places his sister back on the floor with a small noise of curiosity.Â
âBake what?â he asks, grunting in exertion as he crouches and begins untying the laces to his boots, wiggling his fingers at Bastard as he bats at the string. Eri mirrors him to fiddle with her buckles, slipping both shoes off and lining them up neatly by yours before looking to you for an answer.Â
âI was thinking we could make cookiesâŠAh!â you bring your palms together in a succinct clap, âmaybe we could do melonpan?âÂ
A subtle tug to the end of your hoodie. âWhat's melonpan?â
âTheyâre sweet, melon shaped buns covered in cookie dough,â you explain warmly, slow in stroking a hand over the crown of her head. She doesnât flinch, almost feline in how she turns into the touch.Â
âIâm down for some melonpan,â Hitoshi slides back naturally into the conversation, Bastard held out by the armpits as his long torso hangs limbless. You try not to laugh at the displeasure on his face. âMaybe change into something comfortable and dry first though, bugâ.Â
Prompted, Eri scurries up the stairs on both hands and feet. âAnd make sure to wash your hands,â you raise your voice after her. That just leaves you and Hitoshi.Â
He glances at you expectantly, inclining his head towards the kitchen as if to say, arenât you going in?
âGuess we should get the cookie dough done first,â you suggest, taking the lead.Â
In Eriâs absence, side by side at the counter, you both fall into a surprisingly comfortable contentment. Quiet murmurings of small talk; while you work on the cake mix he beats the egg until it whites, whisks sugar into the butter until it dissolves. Hitoshi is stiff at first, short in his responses, but he isnât rude. Heâs just cautious, prying gently into your answers but never giving substance to his own. Even in early adulthood, there was an instinct inside him that called to mask the vulnerability within. To feign confidence and guide conversations in a way that conceals him.Â
He flowers a little when the topic steers to Aizawa.Â
âDid the old man tell you much about me?â
Old man. A decade and then some isnât far off for him, but you supposed in a barely-twenty year oldâs mind it would be. âJust that he fostered you through your late teens. I didnât pry,â you reply. âIâve heard more from Eri, really. She looks up to youâ.Â
He exhales deeply, and you donât press him to continue before heâs ready. âMy mum struggled with addictionâŠâ Hitoshi stares dolefully at the dough cupped between his palms, briefly flickering to the open doorway to check Eri was not within hearing distance.Â
âI was so pissed when social services first took me,â deft fingers begin to move as his voice returns, kneading the ball aimlessly in bread flour to smooth out his spike of anxiety. âI loved her a lot, still do. She never hurt me and I thought we were fine, yâknow? I didnât understand it back then. But it got to a point that she couldnât take care of meâ.Â
He avoids your gaze, feigning indifference, and it makes you wonder how others have reacted to his story. You swallow against the dry discomfort in your throat, rolling the inner flesh of your lip between teeth. Thereâs nothing to say other than, âIâm sorry. That mustâve been incredibly difficult for you bothâ.Â
âThanks,â he murmurs. You watch a thought cross his mind, the corner of his mouth curving into a half smile. âI was such a dick when I got here because I thought Iâd never get to see her again. But dad sat me down and told me he isnât here to be my new parent, that his job is to keep me safe while my mum gets betterâ.Â
You recall Aizawaâs words â fostering is moreso about keeping families together â and smile back. âFunny that be ended up beinâ like a parent to you anyway, huh?âÂ
An amused thrum, the dough in his grasp eventually moulded into what resembled a cylinder. âYeah. Heâs not so bad,â he breathes.Â
Eri joins in a fluffy sweater and leggings, socks pulled up all the way to her calves, fingers still wet and smelling of almond scented soap. Her eyes sweep across the room, alight with curiosity. âYouâre just in time,â you tell her, discreetly putting the topic of Hitoshiâs mother to rest. âGrab the step from the corner so you can help rub the bread flour into the cookie doughâ.Â
When she ambles over, gait stilted by the weight of her stool, Eri slots it between you and Hitoshi. Arms held out in front, you help to roll up her sleeves to avoid mess despite the protective compression underneath.Â
âReady?â
âReady!âÂ
Chubby fingers take two pinches of bread flour, sprinkling over the cookie dough and patting carefully into shape. You let her take her time with it, endeared by how determined she looks carrying out a simple task.Â
Hitoshi supervises her while you begin the first fermentation of the bread dough. Itâs lucky, and amusing, that Aizawa has such a random array of ingredients in his cupboards; you didnât presume him the type to buy things just in case, yet the instant yeast has you sending silent thoughts of gratitude to him through sheer will.Â
With the cookie dough now wrapped and put in the fridge, Eri insists on helping you knead the bread dough. âWe have to throw it a few times first,â you tell them.Â
Hitoshi smirks, âMay I have the honour?âÂ
The pale consistency is sticky and unpleasant as you pass it to him, some caught like glue between your fingers. At the sight of her brother's grimace, Eri pokes at the dough and makes a sound of awe. âItâs so gooey?â she mumbles.Â
âThatâs why heâs gotta throw it. Itâll be nice and smooth,â you curl protectively around Eri as you explain, remembering her dislike for loud noises. âYou might want to cover your ears, sweetheart. Thereâll be a big thud when he does itâ.Â
Hitoshi spreads far too much flour across the counter. Pressing the heels of her hands either side of her head, Eri steps back into your chest at the first impact and gapes as the white powder billows into the air, smattering the length of his forearms. He leans his body weight into the dough as he stretches it, glancing at her for permission and only throwing it again after she nods.Â
Gradually, Eri lowers her hands back down as she acclimates, and the next time she touches the dough it is firmer. âYou did it, âToshi!âÂ
âYeâ!â his nose wrinkles and he suddenly dips into the crook of his arm, turning away from the counter as he sneezes. âShiâ Shoot. Bless meâ.Â
âBless you,â you laugh at him, trying and failing to wipe away the powder clinging to your own clothes. Somehow the white smudges worsen with the effort, and the flour has even ended up dusting the ends of Eriâs hair. âNext we gotta roll it up. Think you can help, Eri?â
By the time the dough is round enough to satisfy the siblings, the mess has worsened. You nestle it into a clear bowl and cover it with plastic wrap to let it sit â or as Eri had described, you tuck it into a âwarm bedâ.
With time left to spare as it ferments, Hitoshi departs to the bathroom to quickly clean himself up. In your distraction, the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps does not register. It isnât until you hear the fond invocation of your names from the doorway that you look up.Â
Covered in flour from your hands to your elbows, with the certainty that it is also dusted across your cheeks, you look up to see Aizawa watching you both wearing a small smile.Â
âHi,â you offer lamely. He snorts.Â
âWhatâre you making?âÂ
A fool of myself, you think.Â
Eriâs eyes sweep over the mess anxiously. There is no indication that heâs angry, but her words still falter. She inhales deeply to steady her breathing just as you taught her, counting to four and releasing. Meeting her fathers stare, she strongly replies, âweâre baking melonpan to share!âÂ
âIs that right?â his eyes squint into a smile and he steps into the threshold, tugging the hairband on his wrist off with his teeth and collecting his hair into a bun. âGot anything I can help out with?âÂ
âWe justââ
âYo,â Hitoshi interrupts as he slinks back into the room with an easy wave.Â
Aizawaâs brow pinches into a frown. âWhatâre you doing in my house?â he says. You can tell he doesnât mean it, and judging by the grin pulling at Hitoshiâs mouth, he can tell too.Â
âJust wanted to surprise you and Eri,â in closing the distance, Aizawa reaches over to Hitoshi and wraps an arm around him, giving a solid pat to the back of his shoulder. You watch as he squeezes, and they briefly turn into one anotherâs familiarity before letting go.Â
Feeling your stare, Aizawa looks at you. To the people that do not know him, his expression might be unreadable, but you understand the fulfilment there. He appears settled, like having you all there in his kitchen has thawed him. âI hope he hasnât given you any trouble?âÂ
âNo more than you,â you cajole, dutifully ignoring the smirk plain on Hitoshiâs face. âTheyâve both been very helpfulâ.Â
Pleased by your praise, Eri beams as she climbs down from the step stool. âWeâre waiting for the bread dough to ferâŠferâŠ?â
âFerment,â you whisper.Â
âFerment!â she nods resolutely, stumbling over to her father to greet him. Before you can warn them, Eri has wrapped herself around his leg and pressed into the side of his hip, black dress pants now embellished with loose flour.Â
He cradles her head as he always does, his hand large around her silver crown. She peers up at him with unfettered joy, in their own private, unspoken exchange. Youâre struck by the thought that it isnât only Eri who thrives under his care. Aizawa, too, even as he tires, becomes that much brighter with her.Â
The house begins to breathe. It is more alive now than youâve ever experienced it. From the upper floor is Sourpussâs distinct yowl as Aizawa heads up the stairs to change, Eri on his coattails telling him about the earlier sun shower.Â
Hitoshi is moving around the kitchen alongside you, cleaning up the aftermath of his ephemeral flour-storm and avoiding Bastardâs abrupt burst of energy from the shadows as he darts through the remnants; fading white and sugar plum sized paw prints left in his wake.Â
You laugh when Hitoshi chases him, hissing disjointed curses as he tries to wipe away the prints with the sole of his socks.Â
When the dough is suitably risen, Aizawa sidles up beside you, shoulder to shoulder. You donât lean into him, but you donât move away. Each of you takes a cut, shaping it into the intended melonpan. The spheres wear their cookie sheet coats, dipped in sugar and engraved overtop with clumsy diamond patterns.Â
Eri lines them up on the baking tray and you put them into the oven. Calls for her to relax go unheard as she waits with her nose pressed to the glass pane until the buns are finally golden, face heated by the orange glow.Â
You sit with the three of them in the middle of the living room, cushions pulled from their spots and rearranged in a tight circle, and something eases into place â a quiet sense of belonging that youâve never experienced in all your years as a nanny. The melonpan is warm and sweet in your mouth, so soft it almost dissolves on your tongue. âSâgood, right?â you hum happily at the taste, finding Eri nodding alongside you with pink cheeks filled and a bright sugar coated smile.Â
âIt really is,â Hitoshi affirms, almost an air of disbelief as he leans back onto his left hand, savouring his own melonpan with the other. You notice his eyes lazily following the movement in your periphery; Aizawa reaches across your front to brush the grains of sugar from his daughter's chin, his own pastry devoured.Â
The man ate unnaturally quietly, and quickly. Maybe he really did have a secret sweet tooth.
In retracting his arm, he glances to you. Thoughtlessly, Shouta wipes the crumbs from the swell of your own cheek. You feel sinnew turn to sand, sifting through his gentle hands. In that split, narrowed second, the rest of the room fell away. Youâre returned to your body by the sound of Hitoshiâs pointed cough, and the touch disappears.Â
âSorry,â he murmurs, furtive in his avoidance of your stare, âforce of habitâ.Â
The smile you wear is brittle over the cacophonous rush of blood in your ears. Poor of an excuse as it was, you still wonder whether it had any truth to it â ruminating over how he really saw you.Â
Soon enough itâs difficult to ignore just how long youâve overstayed your welcome; atleast, in a professional sense. All five of the Aizawaâs, legal, honorary and feline, walk you to the door to bid you goodbye.Â
âBe good, alright?â Shouta calls after you, leaning against the doorframe long after the children have returned to their cushions. His monotony makes it all the more endearing.Â
The real paradigm shift comes with a flinch. Aizawa lets you into the house silently wearing a desperate look. He glances to the top of the stairs, but when you follow his line of sight there is no one there. âShe froze up,â he murmurs, regret bleeding into his voice as it rasps. âI lifted my hand to pat her head and she froze, like she thought Iâd hit her. Sheâs been avoiding me all morningâ.Â
You frown, worrying your lip between your teeth. âIs there anything that mightâve triggered her?â
His shoulders deflate, mouth set in a grimace, and you realise then just how crestfallen he is. âNot that I'm aware of. She was fine before bed and didnât have any nightmares to my knowledge,â â as he bends to pick up his own satchel, Eriâs helpful absence is particularly stark â âif anything goes south let me know. Iâll come straight home if you need me to. We were going to see her psychiatrist soon for a review so Iâll try to have it brought forwardâ.Â
âAlright. I promise Iâll take care of her,â you reply, watching with brows pinched as he turns to the front door. You donât like the slouch to his back â different to the typical exhaustion. This is defeat. Grief, in some ways. While you cannot hear his thoughts, you know intuitively that he is blaming himself.Â
He stops as you grab his wrist, door partially open. Pray tell, what is the right thing to say?Â
âThings like this arenât linear,â your grip tightens, squeezing around his pulse. Thereâs soft hair under the pads of your fingers, the skin there rough from decades of use. âIâm willing to bet this minor setback isnât your fault. Bad days happenâ.Â
âI know,â he rasps, still refusing to look at you.Â
âI know that you know, probably better than most,â you smile where he canât see it. âI just wanted to remind youâ.Â
You experience a palpable sense of accomplishment when his arm turns, inner wrist twisting and sliding forth until your palms kiss. Aizawa holds your hand and peers at you through the curtain of his hair. As clouds part and the sun pierces through the threshold it refracts in his eyes. In a fleeting trick of the light, you think they look red.Â
âThank you,â he says.Â
Away at work, the house is too quiet. Eri isnât a rambunctious girl by any means, but her presence can always be heard. Can always be felt. No pitter patter of socked feet, no muffled laughter, no hushed conversations between girl and cat.Â
A part of you whispers how similar it is to being in your own home. But acknowledging that loneliness is another bruise you donât fancy poking.Â
You find Eri curled up in her bed. She has pressed herself to the wall and brought both knees to her chest. The small bundle quakes, cheeks wet with tears that have begun to saturate the pillowcase. Eri keeps her cries unsettlingly quiet, in a way youâve only ever seen in children afflicted with soul-deep wounds.Â
âEri?â you call out to her with gentle cadence. She is, visibly and emotionally, an animal cornered. You move in closer, keeping to the edge of the room, focused on the worrisome flush to her skin and her laboured breaths. It worsens as you close the distance, a frantic gleam in her eyes.Â
âItâs just me, Eri. Youâre safe here,â pausing a foot away from the edge of her bed, you gingerly lower yourself to sit on her bedroom floor. âI think youâre having a panic attack, bug. So weâre gonna try to slow your breathing. Can you do that for me?âÂ
Her mouth quivers, pursed right as she hiccups. Another quick blink, another round of tears. You try not to collapse with relief when she nods, âYouâre already doing so well. I know itâs scary right now but youâll get through thisâ.Â
Despite the frenetic ache in your chest and the instincts in your body urging that you reach for her, you remain as you are. This is ultimately why you were chosen. Years of schooling and experience puppets your body, autopilot taking lead.Â
âFirst weâre going to breathe in through our noses for three seconds, nice and deep so your chest opens up. Iâll do it too,â â motioning inwards with your hands, you inhale until your ribs expand and lift a finger for each second that passes â âbrilliant, sweetheart. Now hold that breath in for two more seconds. Ready? One⊠twoâŠâ
The minutes progress excruciatingly slowly. You continue to instruct her, keeping your voice soothing and calm with each cycle of breathing. Gradually, the tension bleeds from Eriâs body and sheâs cognisant enough to say your name.Â
It follows an aborted reach for you, halted midway and dropping onto the bed, small hand hamfisting the bedsheets. âIs it okay for me to touch you?â you quietly ask.Â
With her permission, keeping your movements telegraphed, you shuffle toward the mattress on your knees and wrap your arms around her like one might cradle a baby.Â
Pulling her closer to your chest, you realise something is off. Thereâs heat soaking through her clothes, and in stroking a hand along her shoulders you notice theyâre wet. âEriâŠ?â chin against sternum as you peer down, the back of your hand finds her forehead too hot.Â
âAre you sick?â
The question makes her freeze, statuesque where sheâs curled against your chest. âIâm sorry,â she whimpers. Unease settles in your gut.Â
âIâm not angry, Eri. It isnât your fault youâre sick, it happens to everyone,â you say, gently brushing the hair away from her face. âIs that why you were anxious today, you thought I would be upset?âÂ
âThey⊠they get madâ.
âWho does, sweetheart?âÂ
âGrown ups,â she rasps, her voice thick and cloying in her throat. Steadily, the breast of your shirt becomes damp too. The hand threaded into her hair lowers to thumb away the fresh onslaught of tears.Â
âGrown ups can be scary,â you affirm, beginning an instinctive back and forth sway as you hold her. âBut not all of them. Your dad, Hitoshi and I wonât be angry if youâre sick because we want to take care of youâ.Â
Aizawaâs earlier expression flashes unbidden through your thoughts. What he had interpreted had been fear, but not for the reasons he initially thought. Eri was not scared of him â she just didnât want him to know she was sick. No doubt, if he had caught wind of her fever he would have called off work completely.Â
While she doesnât speak about her past to you, it's clear the adults in Eriâs life before entering foster care had treated her needs as something burdensome. Your gaze drifts to the bandages on her forearms and realise they may have even harmed her for it.Â
âI bet these feel all sticky and uncomfortable now, huh?â youâre cautious to trace the protective sleeves with the pad of your finger. As expected, theyâre sweaty.Â
She readjusts in your grip, a sheen of perspiration across pink skin. Panic at bay, now she is exhausted. âSticky,â she weakly agrees.Â
âThen how about I run you a bath?â
Itâs this that leads to you finally seeing the extent of Eriâs scars.Â
When you settle her into the tepid water, your eyes do not linger on mottled skin. Expression carefully schooled into something familiarly pleasant, you keep your thoughts in the present, away from the horrific what ifs and the whys. Unawares of your inner struggle, Eri raises her cupped hands steeped with bubbles and blows them across the bathroom with a tired smile. Having earned so much of her trust is not unlike Atlas, the heavens on your back.Â
You find Eri enjoys routine even while sick, but she isnât especially particular about it and for that youâre thankful, as she is forgiving of your initial clumsiness. She uses the lavender bubble bath because it soothes her, not the raspberry scented wash. Eriâs towels are softer and brighter than Aizawaâs, and the difference is important because they are hers. Socks are stifling, so you neednât lay them out. The nightlight stays on when the curtains are closed, but you still need to leave a crack in the door for Sourpuss and Bastard, whoâve both dutifully stationed themselves outside her bedroom.Â
You turn around and fuss with her bedsheets while she changes into something thin and light. The pyjama top is on backwards, and after retracting her arms into the shirt so you can swivel it around correctly, she clambers into the quilts. Dekiru: The Can Do Hero was her chosen story. Satisfaction thrums through your chest as her eyes start to grow heavy, a damp cloth wrung out and placed across her forehead.Â
Thereâs a pull to your sternum as you leave her room, dipoles strengthening and compelling you to stay â to make sure sheâs still alright. Bastard and Sourpuss watch you with bright eyes, pupils needle-thin. Something very human in you feels as if theyâre saying thank you.Â
More importantly, you need to text Aizawa.Â
You : 11:16
Just thought to update you. I think Eri might have a virus, or a stomach bug. Sheâs okay and resting.Â
Aizawa Shouta : 11:20
Do you need me to come home?
You : 11:21
Weâre okay, but do whatever you think is best. Will let you know if anything worsens.Â
When he eventually returns home it is with cold-bitten cheeks and tension in his brow. A long day looks good on him, you think, stray hair falling loose from his bun and the collar of his shirt crooked. âAny more problems?â he asks with veiled trepidation.Â
âSheâs alright for now,â you donât bother hiding the wry smile that pulls at your mouth, âI heard all about the different voices you use when you read to her. Apparently I donât hold a candle to you. Didnât think you were the typeâ.Â
He holds your gaze with intent, âIâm full of surprisesâ.Â
You exhale a laugh, quiet and warm behind closed lips, âIâm starting to see thatâ.
âOnly just?â his initial teasing slowly retracts, a gradual sink back into melancholy. âIs she really okay?âÂ
âStill slightly feverish, but her temperature is down from thirty eight to thirty sevenâŠâ your weight shifts between each foot as you internally debate how to inform him of the panic attack. Aizawa lends an ear while he removes his coat, and the soft hair on your arm lifts at the chill still clinging to his clothes. You imagine taking his hands into your own and coaxing the blood back to his fingers.Â
âSpeaking of temperature, letâs get you some coffeeâ. Already boiled and percolating on the counter, youâd made it in conjunction with his journey home as you always did. A little extra something you enjoyed doing for him. Aizawa would say that you do plenty in taking care of his family â but this was just for the two of you.Â
A quiet moment together, kitchen dimly lit in the oncoming twilight. With this, you can warm him from the inside and out. With this, you can tell him without words, I was thinking of you.Â
You stand opposite him, boxed into the narrow space. He appraises you from his place by the sink, leaning back casually against the counter. Heat settles in your belly before your first sip. Eyes never leaving yours over the rim of his mug, Aizawa drinks, and hums a low, pleased sound at the taste.Â
The sting to your palms tethers you to the present. A light, somewhat floral aroma fills your senses as you inhale. You lift your own coffee to your mouth, blowing away the plumes of steam. It is rich on your tongue.Â
Your gaze lingers where he licks his lower lip. âItâs a little different this time. Almost⊠spicy and sweet?âÂ
Smile hidden behind your mug, you say, âI tried steeping cardamom with the coffee grounds this time. Do you like it?â
âI do,â he murmurs. He takes another sip, wearing a subdued smile of his own. In the muted light, it accentuates the bags beneath his eyes. Even in his contentment, thereâs a pensive air about him that lets you know his thoughts are elsewhere.Â
With his daughter.Â
âYou should know that after you left this morning I found Eri having a panic attackâ.Â
âShit,â he halts. Regrettably, the frown is back. âDid she hurt herself?â
âNo! No,â you demurred, hastening to reassure him, âI knew what to do. She was scared at first, but I calmed her downâ.Â
The mouth youâre so enticed by is caught between teeth, his fingers tapping restlessly against the ceramic of his cup. Aizawa sighs, erring on a scoff as he places the half drunk coffee in the sink and scrubs a hand against the stubble on his jaw.
âDo you know what caused it?â he asks. Did I do something wrong? you hear.Â
âIt wasnât until she let me touch her that I realised she had a fever. I thought sheâd just exerted herself during the attack,â you mirror his actions, setting aside your mug carefully on the countertop. âShe told me⊠before she came into your care, adults would be angry if she needed help or got sickâ.Â
His eyes are cast to the floor, in a haze almost. He nods but you arenât sure that your words are registering. Resting against sternum, his hand clenched into a fist.Â
âEri wasnât scared of you. She just didnât want you to know about her fever because she feared it would disrupt your work,â and then gently, to truly make sure he understands, you repeat: âshe isnât scared of you, Shoutaâ.Â
He breathes the reality in and slacks against the counter with an exhale, as if the tension had been the only thing holding his strings together. Youâre drawn forward by the urge to comfort him, moving into his space with a hand laid overtop fist before youâre able to consider the professional consequences of crossing such boundaries.Â
But he doesnât bat you away or scold you. The warmth of your touch slowly softens his grip until youâre able to unfurl each finger without fanfare. There are faint crescent moons embedded into the heel of his palm. Without speaking, Shouta overturns his wrist and holds your hand again.Â
âI thought about what you told me this morning. About none of this being linear,â he continues to speak somberly, his voice so tender you felt you could marinate in it. âEri started out as a foster with me when she was four. It was awful at the start â constant appointments with doctors and the police and social services. Iâve temporarily fostered a few kids in my time but a case as severe as Eri's was a firstâ.Â
This wasnât a time to interrupt, just to listen. You canât look away from him as he looks at you; looks at the space between your bodies where you currently intertwine, like he was memorising every dip and peak of your knuckles.Â
âAdopting her scared the hell out of me. Even though sheâd become my daughter in every way that counts, there were always times I worried Iâd fuck it up. Still are,â he murmurs. You do not shy away when he peers up to keep your gaze. âBut you reminded me that bad days are expected, not something always within my control, and not a reflection of my parentingâ.
To anyone looking in from the outside, this would be an intimate moment. You and Shouta, curved toward one another like coupled swans. âThank you,â he squeezes around your knuckles in successive beats as if to press the sentiment into your skin. âFor taking care of both of usâ.Â
The corners of his eyes wrinkle, and you find yourself on the precipice of something more.Â
The depths and the possibilities that lie within haunt you through to the weekend. You cannot forget the rough pad of his thumb stroking across your knuckles, the intermingling scent of flora and cologne, or how easily you could have dipped forward to kiss him.Â
Eri remains sick for two days and Shouta promises you itâs fine that you stay home. You can appreciate that he wants to spend time with her, to assure her that he is a safe and constant presence in her life. Still, you miss them far more than you should.Â
Your best friends donât take well to moping. Touya and Rumi are not the type to mope â their stubborn, vindictive natures were a large part of why you loved them. You just much preferred it when those qualities were not inflicted upon you.Â
âRemind me again why we couldnât just drink at my apartment?âÂ
You are dragged to a little hole in the wall Touya had found during your university years. Itâs slightly industrial, a wide open space with tall, steel beams spaced around the room. What differs is the warmth; lighting low, muted orange bulb fixtures in the centre of each table casting an intimate glow, accompanied by soft acoustic music overhead.Â
A large drinks bar had been built into the centre, corners slightly rounded with stools around the outer â one of which you have taken for yourself. The three of you sit together on the curved edge so you can face one another, Rumi contented to be in the middle. Being here felt similar to huddling around a campfire, or candlelight. Alcohol insulating your bones and loosening your tongue, easy laughter shared with friends.Â
You were brought here on a quest for distraction, and yetâ
âI donât think you understand how dire this is,â you bemoan, feeling yourself pout at Touyaâs self indulgent eye roll. âHe tells me to be good before he leaves now, too. Looks right at me and says âbe good, both of youââ.
Your initial goal may have been overly optimistic.Â
âLike a bit of praise, donât ya?â Rumi laughs.Â
Touya smirks, wiping away a stray bead of soju from his mouth as his eyes sweep across the bar. âWho doesnât?â
âIt isnât funny,â limp wristed as you swirl the sweet tasting concoction in your glass, Rumi slips her arm along the back of your stool. âI want to kiss him. All the time!â
A hand rubs firm circles between your shoulder blades. At the very least, neither of them are irritated by the topic. Embarrassing to admit, Aizawa Shouta had featured prominently in your group chat over the past month. Most of their responses have been either good natured teasing or detailing complaints about their own love lives, for which youâd been thankful, because at the time youâd only needed a place to vent and an ear to listen.Â
Now you werenât so sure. Heartbeat in your mouth, his phantom touch around your fingers. You knew him sleep mussed and lazy, his low rumbling laugh, the way your name sounds when he smiles. Inch by inch the spool unravels, you take more than you need, left wanting still.Â
You couldnât pretend a line had not been crossed anymore, and you tell them as much.Â
âSo, weâre actually talking about this now?â Touya asks, waving his hand between the three of you. âI know weâve been joking and shit, but if weâre getting serious Iâll need another roundâ.Â
Though he acts nonchalant, you can tell Touya cares. Turned inward to face you and leant forward across the bar with his cheek against his palm, the scarred skin slightly glossy as it pulls taut. Where his words say very little, his body speaks for him. Rumi coos and throws her other arm around his shoulders when you reach across, and he reciprocates in taking your hand.Â
âDumbass,â he mutters. âWeâre here for you. But Iâm not joking about that drinkâ. You grin, tucking your head into the crook of Rumiâs neck, draped beneath white, to return the hug while she waves over the bartender. Another grapefruit soju, a kirin lager and a cocktail of the night.Â
Words come easy when youâre loose-lipped. âIâm anxious that itâs obvious to him,â you say. âFuck. I donât wanna make anyone uncomfortableâ.Â
âIs this Aizawa guy really the type to tolerate anything that makes him uncomfortable?â
âI think soâŠââ he is, and he would, if it were for someone he cares about âââŠBut not without saying anything about itâ.Â
âThere ya go then,â Rumi replies, exhaling happily at the end of a long sip from her pint glass. âAnd youâve told us before that heâs always honest with you. What was it you saidâŠ?âÂ
Touya clears his throat and warps the pitch of his voice to mimic your own, âWhy is emotional maturity and clear communication so hot?âÂ
âFuck off,â you laugh, heat thrumming beneath your skin. You wished you had a stray straw wrapper to flick at him, jokingly adding, âit is hot. I love you, but not all of us get off on being ignored, yâknow.âÂ
âSue me,â he jests, narrowing his eyes into a drunken glare that at best, looks like a squint. âAnd I donât get ignored. I do the ignoringâ.
Noticing his empty bottle, Rumi slides him her glass sympathetically, âsure ya doâ.
The bar is notably less empty than it had been an hour ago. Not full by any means, but the music has slowly been overwhelmed by the quiet lull of overlapping conversation. Tuning out the lovable bickering at your side, you take a moment to appraise the new crowd.Â
Something sinks into the pit of your stomach and you baulk, caught on a familiar sight.Â
Fuck, you think. How long has he been there?
There he sits, aglow with the sunset hue affixed to the centre of his table. Hair loose, ebony drapes over his shoulders. Heâs in a pale turtleneck sweater, looking distinctly out of place. Beside him a lean man, bright in demeanour and loud across the room; a blond braid follows the line of his spine, tinted glasses resting on the end of his nose.Â
A woman approaches the pair, beaming. Curved and soft, wearing a lilac, off the shoulder dress that hugs the line of her body comfortably. She sets a tray of drinks down beside their numerous empty glasses and presses herself between the two, unperturbed by the lack of space.Â
A spark of recognition frissons through you. They must be the friends you often see framed around the house; Nemuri and Hizashi, if you remember correctly.Â
Shoutaâs clear exasperation as he moves to accommodate Nemuri makes you want to laugh. But still, there is a fondness there that rolls over him like mist. He sinks into the arm around his shoulder, surrendering himself to the affection.Â
âOi. Whatâre you staring at?â You blink, startled by the large hand suddenly waving in your face.Â
âHeâs hereâ.
âYour hot dadboss?â Touya mutters, doing a poor job of acting natural as he abruptly turns to scan the room, âwhere?âÂ
âCould you be any more fucking obvious?â Rumi cackles, bumping their shoulders and forcing his attention back to the table. ââSides, itâs clearly the trio on your two oâclock. Scruffy guy with long dark hair, eyebags that couldnât legally board a plane â the worksâ.Â
As Touya peers over his shoulder towards Shouta, you release a long, suffering groan, slumping forward with elbows propped on the bar surface to bury into your palms. You hoped a sinkhole would open up beneath you. From behind your hands you hear, âI find your taste in men questionableâ.
âLike you have any room to talk,â you glare at him through the spaces in your fingers, âdidnât you fuck a guy that had a poster of your dad over his bed?â
Seated adjacent, Rumi chokes on her drink while you knock back your own. âA poster of your dad? Hasn't he been publicly disgraced in every print media possible?â
A dismissive wave of his hand. âI will not be commenting at this time,â he sneers.
âHoly shit. Iâm gonna tell your brothersââ
ââLike hell you are!â
Amidst your friends' loving exchange of insults, your phone buzzes.Â
Aizawa Shouta : 21:34Â
You handle your drink better than I thought.Â
Sensing the playful tone, you pointedly take a sip of another. Glancing up from the screen you meet his eyes across the bar, a smirk hidden behind his scotch glass. Chewing the inside of your cheek to withhold a grin, you text him back.Â
You : 21:34Â
Look whoâs talking. I spy four empty glasses on your side of the table.Â
âAre you seriously messaging him right now?â Touya asks dryly, unperturbed by the middle finger you throw in response. Rumi laughs at his side, tucking her chin into the palm of her hand as your phone lights up again.Â
Aizawa Shouta : 21:36
You sure are paying a lot of attention to me.Â
And then:Â
Aizawa Shouta : 21:36
But youâre right. No doubt Iâll miss your coffee tomorrow morning.Â
A shot glass is placed in front of you. Goaded into bringing it to your lips, you grimace at the burn in your throat. Coffee sounds like bliss.Â
You : 21:37Â
Iâll miss making it. Who is watching Eri?Â
Aizawa Shouta : 21:37
Hitoshi. Theyâre having a movie marathon.Â
You smile to yourself, imagining the apoplectic way in which Eri would likely detail her night to you in a few days. Feeling the weighted stare, you glance up and meet Aizawaâs eyes again, half squinted into a private smile of his own. He nods in acknowledgement and warmth settles in your chest. Rumi, inebriated and loose-lipped, leans into Touya incognisant of his scowl, âJesus. I feel like Iâve stepped into a romcomâ.Â
You : 21:38
I canât wait to hear all about it.Â
It is expected that they stay with you after a night out. Your place is closer to the bar â a matter of routine and convenience. Rumi, lightweight with alcohol and heavyweight with musculature, passes out unceremoniously on your couch before sheâs halfway through her large glass of water.Â
Touya had sobered up on the walk home. Mostly. Just a two man party, you retire to the bathroom together with intentions of skin care and gossip. He watches you in the reflection of the mirror, bent over the sink and applying the pale clay mask to his face with careless strokes. The colour is almost identical to the faded pink of his burn scars, tight and slightly raised over the swell of his cheek. âYouâre not the first person who has wanted to fuck their boss and you wonât be the last,â he mutters.Â
âDo you really have to put it like that?â you huff, leaning back against the toilet tank. The seat is closed and cold against the back of your thighs. You didnât often have time for nights like this anymore, but made sure to pencil them in wherever possible for your own sanity â even if your best friend was the complete opposite of comforting.Â
âYouâre so delicate,â he rolls his eyes at you, pushing the cat-eared headband further onto his crown to keep his hair out of the clay. Mockingly, he adds, âMy apologies. I meant âmake sweet love toââ.Â
Your wide smile cracks the clay dried to your skin as your leg extends to kick him behind the knee, laughing at the hissed string of expletives while he steadies himself. âDickâŠâ the amusement tapers, a memory of Eri flashing unbidden through your mind.Â
âHis daughter has had it really rough. She has scars all over her body,â you quietly tell him, fractures forming in the words as your emotions swell. Of all the people you know, you think he alone understands, âit isnât fairâ.Â
Touya exhales, clicking the small container shut and loudly dropping the brush into the sink to rinse. Not unkindly, he says, âIf I ever meet her we can bond over our shitty biodads. Make an exclusive clubâ.
You smile weakly at his comment, picking idly at the small wick of flesh embedded in the corner of your fingernail. âTheyâre both so important to me now, Touya. I donât want my feelings to mess with this, or to hurt either of themâ.Â
âItâs notâ look,â he huffs, turning to face you where he stands, slumping back onto the counter with a comically serious expression. âIâll say this once. Your feelings arenât a burden, and theyâre fucking lucky to have you. If the-walking-dead doesnât want you back it doesnât mean itâs the end of the world, but it does mean heâs an idiotâ.Â
You might laugh again if you didnât recognise how sincere he was being. Touya struggled with reassuring others in need and was renowned for giving terrible advice, but he loved you enough to try anyway. Tiled flooring tepid against the soles of your feet, you cross the short distance to hug him, angled awkwardly to avoid getting pink clay on his shirt.Â
âThank you,â you murmur thickly.Â
âBetter appreciate it. Being nice isnât my forte,â he knocks his chin against your crown, comforted in the narrow clutch of his arms. âTakes a lot outta me. Kinda feel like I need a cigarette nowâ.Â
âYou havenât had one in a month. Donât even think about it,â you flick the space between his brows, dodging his retaliation as he reaches to pinch your waist with a less than coordinated stumble.Â
Out in the living room on the edge of your coffee table, your phone buzzes twice.Â
Aizawa Shouta : 00:08
If youâre free tomorrow, can you come over to talk?
Aizawa Shouta : 00:08
Just us two.Â
Possibilities ran amok in your head. The anxiety thorning through your chest is reminiscent of the very first time youâd met him. Shouta was not a religious man but if there was anything that man insisted on, it was that Sundayâs are for rest. You knew he liked to lie in, a small weekly respite, and so you hesitated to knock.Â
A door you had opened, locked, leaned against and lingered under, now seemed so foreboding. From here on out, you imagine there will be a before and an after. Had he heard you in the bar? Had one of his friends? Or, had you been too obvious, just like you feared?Â
Touya and Rumi had practically ushered you out of the apartment that morning, promising to stay behind and wait for an update. Greasy food and camp horror movies were in the wings incase of a broken heart.Â
With bated breath, you lift your arm. The momentum of your swing slows until your knuckles are soundlessly touching wood. You really, really didnât want to knock. The idea of your feelings being spurned far outweighed the desire to see Shouta soaked in sleep and early afternoon sunlight again.Â
Amidst your trepidation, the decision is made for you. You pull back at the familiar click of a key being turned, hand now clutched against your chest. The door is opened.Â
Belatedly, you notice that his face is clean shaven; hair combed and half tucked behind his ear to display the smooth skin. Absent is the neon pink, today the sweatpants are dark and cuffed around his ankles. You hold his gaze, resolutely avoiding how his shirt hangs loose enough to expose his pale collarbones, and find that each of his socks is a different colour â one green, one yellow.Â
âWill you be loitering out here all day?â he asks in lieu of a greeting. Thereâs an amused inflection to his tone that, at the very least, softens your embarrassment.Â
âI didnât plan on it,â you reply, stepping into the entryway to be embraced by the houseâs warmth. Anticipation strums deft fingers through your centre of gravity. Shouta barely moves, a hair's breadth between your bodies as you slip by him, head turning to watch you pass. âEri isnât here?â
Bending to remove your shoes, you hear him say, âSheâs staying with her aunt Nemuri tonight. Coffeeâs brewed, so you can sit if you want. Get comfortableâ.
âYou made it?â playful in the way you glance toward him over your shoulder, slightly invigorated by how natural this all feels. He certainly doesnât look like a man whoâs about to fire you â quite the opposite. âIâm a little scaredâ.Â
The first time youâd caved into drinking one of his morning coffees it'd had the taste and texture of tar. It had been nothing short of punishment. As if he was reliving the memory alongside you, Shouta huffs a short laugh.Â
âIâve improved. I wonât be shown up in my own home,â he dismisses you with a wave and heads into the kitchen, ânow go and sitâ.Â
Bastard observes your entrance perched atop the back of the couch, expression etched into a permanent glare. A soft thud follows his leap down, slinking into your lap once seated and rolling his body weight into your stomach. You smile down at him, carding through his soft fur and feeling the vibration of his purr beneath your fingers.
Befriending this fickle little creature is a testament to how far youâve come with their family.Â
âHere,â you look up to see Shouta standing before you, a familiar mug decorated with multicoloured pawprints held out. You take it by the handle, wary of its heat. The other end of the couch dips as he settles beside you, notably close.Â
âIt smells a little like⊠cinnamon?â
He hums an affirmative, bringing the rim of his mug to his lips and taking a long sip, unconcerned by the temperature. âI added some to the pot this time. Not too badâ.Â
The tawny surface ripples as you lightly blow across it before having a taste. Itâs full on your tongue, but in a way that is creamy rather than viscid. You can feel his stare boring into the side of your face as you savour the subtle sweetness of the cinnamon.Â
âNot too bad,â you echo with a wry smile, meeting his gaze. Shouta appears uncharacteristically⊠relieved by your answer. Youâd never known him to actively try to impress you. His shoulders relax, rubbing his hand awkwardly along the line of his jaw.Â
Without forethought, you blurt, âYouâve shavedâ.Â
His movement halts, and you regret having said anything.Â
âI did,â he replies dryly. â...I was pestered by some very annoying people into putting some effort into my appearance before we had this conversationâ
You stroke the pad of your thumb around your mug handle, made restless by the implication. Shouta was always effortlessly considerate of you, but his actions as of late are so obviously purposeful, and you didnât know what to make of it. âI donât think you needed to,â you tell him, your voice almost wistful in how sincere it sounds. âThe scruffy look works for you. Itâs handsomeâ.Â
The contact breaks for a moment as he lifts his coffee in effort to disguise his snort. You watch his throat bob, swallowing deeply. Brow quirked, he asks, âYou think Iâm scruffy?â
âI think youâre handsome,â you correct, a giddy sensation bubbling in your chest as the corners of his eyes crinkle. âStop fishing, you said Iâm here to talk about somethingâ.Â
âYou are,â he agrees, abating his mirth and returning to a more serious tone. You immediately miss the warmth. âIâm no good at this kind of thing. But I want to remind you that you can leave, if at any time I make you uncomfortableâ.Â
Bastard fidgets, but dull claws kneading through your clothes does nothing to alleviate your sudden anxiety. âAlright⊠Whatâsâ whatâs all this about?âÂ
You can see the breath he takes to steady himself, the internal monologue you arenât privy to. Thereâs a discomfort that sinks into his expression, almost like a grimace. Like predetermined regret. Despite your earlier concerns, this was clearly about him and not about you.Â
âI admired from the very beginning how brilliant you were with Eri. You werenât the first nanny weâd been introduced to, but she never took well to any of the others,â as he begins, you tuck a hand beneath the feline in your lap, distractedly stroking his chin. âWe both saw something comforting in you. It was unnerving how easily you fit into our livesâ.Â
Mirroring you, Shouta reaches his free hand across to scratch behind Bastard's ear. âEri came to love you, and eventually IâŠâ the bridge of his nose wrinkles, lips thinning as if he tasted something sour. Youâre both hesitating, teetering over a cliff's edge, wary of the jump. Your pulse beats loud in your ears, and part of you worries youâll mishear him all together.Â
âOver time, I developed strong romantic feelings for you,â he says. In admitting it, the fight visibly bleeds from his body. He sounds apologetic, and it hurts. âI might have dealt with it myself had Hitoshi not told me I was being too obvious. If thatâs the case, and Iâve crossed any boundaries with you I want to apoloââ
âDonât apologise,â you hastily interrupt. âSorry for cutting you off. Iâ I didnât know, but, I like you tooâ.Â
The grip on your mug is shatteringly tight. He stares at you unblinking, eyes widened in imperceptible surprise. âYou do?â
âI thought I was embarrassingly obvious,â You laugh weakly, seconding him another glance. Heâs still watching, a light shade of pink creeping up his neck. âIâve been feeling so guilty. Not only about crossing professional lines, but because I donât want any of this to hurt Eriâ.Â
âThen weâre on the same page,â he concedes.Â
Your reciprocation sees a shift in atmosphere. As you both soak in the words, and all the consequences that may follow, his hand gradually slips beneath Bastardâs chin and brushes against your own. Fingers twitch, gluttonous, the moment held in suspension.Â
And then theyâre spreading, unfolding like a flower in bloom. Your palms align and stems intertwine. Shouta holds your hand like itâs something precious, filling the spaces between your fingers. Bastard remains incognisant of the world around him as he sleeps, resting his head heavily against your wrists. Â
âRealistically,â you begin again, after a brief silence. âWhere would you want this to go? Between usâ.Â
His grip tightens, and he runs his thumb along the points of your knuckles. âWell. I initiated this discussion knowing things likely would not be the same again after,â he murmurs gently. âBest case scenario, I hoped either we would come up with a schedule that kept more concrete boundaries in place so my feelings wouldnât disrupt your relationship with Eri, or Iâd get lucky and youâd want to build something more with meâ.Â
More. Maw. The aching hunger in your heart is suddenly startlingly prominent. The very thing youâd been wanting for, offered to you on a silver platter. Knowing he had always planned to keep you in Eriâs life strikes a chord, and you feel like you might cry.Â
Squeezing his hand back, you blink away the sting in your sinuses. âThis is⊠slightly overwhelmingâ.
He smiles heistantly. You never thought youâd see the day that Aizawa Shouta looked shy. âDo I need to get the feelings chart?â
âShut up,â you laugh. âIâm just happy. This is a big thing, and itâs about more than just us, but for now... Iâm happyâ.Â
Then, with the lines in the sand patently smoothed over, you relinquish restraint and lean into his shoulder. He rests his cheek against your temple, and you shape around one another instinctively. âIf I could be the one to pick, then I think Iâd choose to build something more with youâ.
âYeah?â Thereâs a raspy baritone warming his voice that pulls at your centre. You want to curl up next to it like kindling.Â
âYeahâ.Â
âSo,â he turns his head and his lips are softer than expected along your skin. âYou wouldnât mind if I took you on a date?âÂ
âI wouldnât,â you breathe. He hums, a sincere happy little sound.Â
âWould you mind if I kissed you?â
The mug of coffee, still held in your right hand, is cold. Bastard remains heavy, spread across your lap like a blanket. You can feel Shoutaâs apprehension, the uncertainty that comes with drawing new lines on a blank slate. Again, you repeat, âI wouldnâtâ.Â
He doesnât fumble. Shouta rests his drink beside the couch, a fleeting loss of his warmth, and then heâs back to take your own. All without releasing your left hand. Bastard complains when your legs move, knees turning inwards to face him as Aizawa moves to cradle your face between palms, and the feline departs your lap, stray hairs dotting your clothes.Â
A sense of weightlessness floods through you, fingers entangling into the fabric of his shirt to keep yourself tethered. He reveres you for a moment, eyes lingering on your expression as he brings your foreheads together. This close, you can see a faint scar curved along his cheek that you had never noticed before.
âYouâre gorgeous,â he murmurs.
Heat pricks at your skin. You can feel his breath on your lips. âHurry up,â you insist.Â
The lilt of desperation in your tone inspires a lazy grin, âYou could say pleaseâ.Â
You had no problems parting with your dignity. âPleaseâ.
And so, he kisses you.Â
Youâre certain you would be formless without Shoutaâs hand smoothing along the column of your throat, untethered. The other moves to your hip. He grounds you, thumbs circling the soft skin of your waist, he pulls away for breath only to dip and capture your lips in another tender kiss. Itâs slow, patient and lacking in direction. Itâs without expectation and arousal. It is just that â loving.Â
When your lips part, he murmurs your name softly into your mouth. His tongue is wet and languid, smooth as it maps out the grooves of your teeth, sliding warm against your own. Excitement frissons along the length of your spine, compelling you to press closer and sate your hunger.Â
He tastes like cinnamon.Â
The touches evolve into something more frantic. You end up curled into him as he sinks back against the couch, half pulling you onto his lap. Appreciative and firm, a hand squeezes the fat of your thigh where it is strewn over his knee. You swallow every sweet murmuring, every soft groan he gives you, and it falls like a small stone into the pit of your stomach. Barely filling.
You wanted more, and between gasping breaths, you knew he did too.Â
âCan I take you to bed?â he asks, the question rough in his throat.
The muscles in your legs clench at that, pressing tightly together. It wasnât that you didnât want itâ you felt yourself throb at the thought, shrinking under the weight of his hunger â but youâd hardly come here expecting anything. Especially not this.
âIâ I didnât come prepared for that?â you answer honestly. His gaze grows heavy, brow curved in a silent bid for explanation. âI didnât⊠shower for very long,â and you hadnât worn particularly alluring underwear, either.Â
He takes a measured breath and you shy into the couch cushions. âYou think I care about that?â he says. Your eyes flicker then at the gentle stroke of his fingers along your jawline. He tilts your chin with the hand cradling your cheek, and forces you to look back at him. The pad of his thumb traces along your bottom lip, and he smiles when you reflexively kiss it.Â
âWe donât have to, I know this might be too fast. We can stop right here, â he murmurs, enunciating each word as if to stress his sincerity. âBut know that I do want you, I want all of you. And I want you now, as you areâ.Â
You shift in place, reflexively seeking friction. Still, he waits. âDo you have condoms?âÂ
âI do,â his eyes are half lidded, and they gleam with mirth. âTwo kids at home and twenty in my criminology programme. Not looking to have more anytime soonâ.Â
Maybe your transparency should be, at the very least, a little embarrassing. No doubt youâre wearing a lovesick expression. But you canât find it in you to care. âThen okay,â you tell him. âTake me upstairsâ.Â
Excitement stirs in your gut during the walk up, feeling his presence at the small of your back. The door to his room has been left ajar, and when he overtakes you to enter first youâre struck by the realisation that this is the only room youâve never been in.Â
You arenât sure what you were expecting. Itâs a cool off white colour, save for an accent wall painted a dark emerald green â so dark, that without the sunlight you could mistake it for black, not unlike his kitchen. There are two alcoves fixed with shelves, lined with books and titles you havenât heard of, and a small desk beside his chest of drawers covered in paperwork.Â
The bedframe is high, but there is no headboard. Pillows upon pillows, blankets old and new. Sitting square in the middle of the mattress is Sourpuss, her paws tucked against her belly as she stares at the intrusion.Â
You arenât given much time to process. There are hands on your hips, teeth paving tender nips down the curve of your throat. âStill ok?â Shouta rasps, nosing the delicate skin beneath your ear.Â
âYeah,â and youâre sinking into his chest like warm water as he gently guides you into the room. Before reaching the bed, you turn in his arms to kiss him. Your fingers thread into his thick hair, light as you scratch against his scalp.Â
Sourpuss complains when youâre lowered onto the bed, jumping to the floor as you scoot up towards the pillows. You offer her a half hearted apology, already distracted by the roll of Shoutaâs hips.Â
His cock is hard beneath his sweatpants, rocking deliciously against your clothed sex. Everything is hot. âShoutaâ!â face turned into the sheets to muffle your whine, you note that they smell like him.Â
âI know love,â he ruts forward again, expression pinched in pleasure. With your throat bared, he continues the path of open mouthed kisses to your collar, a hand rising to cup your chest. You arch into the touch as he squeezes. âBet you could make me cum like thisââ
ââBut not before you do,â Another kiss to your lips, chaste in comparison. He pulls away to meet your gaze, seeking permission. âI want to taste youâ.Â
âOkayâŠâ you tilt your chin, pecking the corner of his mouth, and you feel it curve up as your hands find purchase at the hem of his shirt. âJust take this off, firstâ.Â
When he sits back on his knees, arms crossed to lift the fabric over his head, you are left adrift to enjoy the view. He is well built but appears to have lost definition over time, with his biceps and pecs still thick but his stomach soft. Thereâs sparse hair on his chest, thicker beneath his belly button.Â
Indulging the urge to touch, he shudders as you trace your finger through it and tease his waistband. âYours too,â he says, the instruction rough in his throat.Â
His body moves with yours like the tide as you sit up to remove your shirt, already there to lick the valley between your breasts. You wrap your arms around his head, gathering the dark hair draped over you and brushing it away from his face to watch the way he reveries you.Â
Your abdomen flinches under his soft kisses. Shouta travels the length of your torso as if he were savouring you. Heâs pressing sweet nothings in your skin, inaudible mumblings that still leave you warm because theyâre spoken so breathlessly.Â
He hooks into your waistband and looks at you. Before he can ask, you slip your hands alongside his â âhere, let meâŠâ â and begin to push both your pants and your underwear over the curve of your ass. As the material peels away, you can feel it cling to your sex. Wet.Â
âFuck, look at you,â a hand gently parts your knees. He forges another line of light, barely there kisses along your inner thighs, and once he reaches the apex he inhales with a quiet groan that has your fingers tugging at his hair. Heâs immovable as your embarrassment pushes him back barely an inch, satisfaction twitching at the edge of his mouth. Jaw slack, pupils dilated and almost gleaming in rebellion, he rolls his tongue forward obscenely to flick the bud of your clit.Â
Your breathing stutters. It loosens your grip enough that he can tip his head forward to consume you completely, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure like it was his arousal own being satiated. Covetous, he signals contentment with a rumbling in his chest and it vibrates against your sex.Â
The beat of your heart ricochets through your centre; pulsing in your throat, your ears and your pussy. Shoutaâs tongue slides over you, wet and soft. Where it seems like heâs indulging himself, you realise heâs still adapting each movement to the sounds you make. Wherever a moan falls past your lips he maintains rhythm and pace, reins himself in to watch the rise and fall of your breasts.Â
The knot in your belly tightens and your body coils in on itself, thighs clamped against his ears with hips bucking into his mouth. The mattress shakes, and when you notice itâs him rutting into the sheets, you moan helplessly louder. âShouta, Iâmâ!âÂ
He groans, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips and pulling you impossibly close. Your heels dig into his back as his nose slides against your clit, and he tilts to unrelentingly flicker his tongue over the swell.Â
âJust like that,â you gasp, grip searing at his scalp. Lewd, wet sounds reverberate around the room. âFuck!âÂ
A momentary breath is caught in your throat. Your body bends, spine arched forward like a bow as you crest. All at once, the sharp twist in your belly lessens, diffuses, warms your body from the inside out in gentle pulses.Â
In returning to yourself, you realise heâs steadily carrying you through the motions; soft licks and forgiving kisses until sensitivity overwhelms you. He hums again, like a man that has just finished a meal. You relinquish your grip on his hair and begin massaging the roots in apology.Â
âHey,â you mumble, resting your cheek against your shoulder as you peer down at him between your legs. Resting against your thigh, face sodden and pink, he looks rather pleased with himself.Â
He sighs, tongue lazily swiping along his lower lip. Half lidded, he meets your gaze. âCan I preface this by telling you it's been a while since I've had sex?âÂ
You laugh at the unexpected response. âWhat, why? Did you cum in your pants?âÂ
The question itself is a joke, but when he levels you with a carefully blank look, your mouth parts. âYou did?â
âPossibly,â he grunts, tucking his chin to nose along your navel.Â
Sensing his simmering embarrassment, you reach to encourage him back up the bed until youâre face to face. Unperturbed by what's left of your own arousal, you cradle his jaw and kiss him soundly.Â
âThatâs soââ again and again, punctuating each word, ââso fucking hotâ.Â
Shouta grins against your lips, slipping his arms around your waist and gathering you to his chest. Your palm rests over his heart, fingers idly twirling around the short hair there. âSo were you,â he murmurs, pointedly shifting his hips. You can feel his sweatpants are slightly damp. âThat was the problemâ.Â
âSorry,â you offer playfully, enjoying the pleasant buzz prickling under your skin. âIt doesnât matter. Weâve got plenty of time, havenât we?âÂ
It is then that your intimate afterglow is cut short, by the long suffering yowl of Sourpuss no less. Glaring sharply from her place by the desk, mortification rolls over you.Â
âPlease tell me she wasnât watching us?âÂ
Shouta snorts, the sound dissolving into peals of quiet laughter as you smack his shoulder. âI donât know,â he replies amusedly, loosening his grip and turning to the edge of the bed. âI was a little preoccupiedâ.Â
He stands and ushers the feline towards the door, which heâd mistakenly left ajar. âI canât believe this,â you bemoan, crossing your arms over your head to hide your face.Â
Thereâs a dip on your side of the mattress, followed by the sound of something being placed on the bedside table. He sits beside you, leaning across to pry away your limbs. âCome here,â he croons, first bringing your inner wrist to his lips. âIâm sure she wasnâtâ.Â
His hair curtains the two of you as he presses your foreheads together. It brings you back into a world made up of just the two of you. âLet me kiss you,â and you do. You can appreciate the distraction.Â
You part when something vibrates. In your peripheral vision, you notice a screen light up. He mustâve taken your phone out of your pants pocket. âYou should check that, it buzzed earlier too. Iâm gonna get out of these boxersâ.Â
âOkay,â you smile as he presses another kiss to your temple. You never wouldâve guessed heâd be so affectionate.Â
He busies himself changing while you look at your messages. Itâs the group chat with Rumi and Touya.Â
Sugar tits (Touya) : 13:03
Oi. Are you alive.Â
Ru-ru (Rumi) : 13:12
Babe. Please reply to us before Touya sets ur mans house on fire lolÂ
You : 13:26
Sorry sorry!! Iâm alive. My legs feel like jelly though (ÂŽ êł` )
Almost immediately, the device is furiously vibrating in your hands again. You rest it against your sternum and grin, choosing to bask in the feeling a little longer.Â
When you are next tasked with caring for Eri, a few days have passed and the weather has turned. You pick her up from school on the tail end of an unexpected heatwave with the promise of a surprise when you get home. She holds three of your fingers in her hand, and a small handheld fan in the other. Itâs Sailor Moon themed.Â
After cleaning up that afternoon, Shouta sat with you and had a much longer discussion about what the next steps should be. He made it emphatically clear that he didnât enjoy the thought of being in a relationship with someone he employed â admittedly, it didnât sit right with you either.Â
But the importance lies with Eri. For the both of you, she must always come first. Your sudden upheaval as her other caretaker would likely cause a lot of hurt and confusion. So Shouta asked that you patiently wait for your first date until after he has talked to his daughter.Â
You watch her with a smile as she warmly greets Sourpuss at the foot of the stairs â whom you still cannot make eye contact with â and skips into the living room. In your mind, you count backwards from three until you hear the expected gasp.Â
She mustâve found the fort.Â
Less of a fort, more of a⊠linen cave. Itâs an old king-sized bed sheet youâd found in the closet, held in place by a book at each corner, and gaping open with the assistance of a fan at the entrance.Â
âCan IâŠ?â
âYes, yes,â you beckon her to climb in, already relieved by the cool gust of air rotating into the sheet. âGo on in. Itâs for you!âÂ
Youâd tried to make it as comfortable as possible, filled with cushions and soft toys from her bed. At the very least it has a seal of approval from Bastard, who has curled up into himself atop one of the pillows, his long coat moving in the current. Eri crawls in on her hands and knees, settling beside him with a happy giggle.Â
âYou too!â She cheers. You clamber in, tucked between her and one of her favourite plushies.Â
âCome on,â you say, grinning as you excitedly encourage her to join you, âwatch thisâ. With curious eyes watching, you lean towards the spinning fan and speak into it. âIsnât this cool?â your voice is given a jarring staccato effect as the sound waves bounce back. âI. Am. A. Robotâ.Â
You didnât think your smile could get any bigger until she began to laugh delightedly. She slumps her weight against you, cheek to cheek and pressed close to your side as she rushes to try it herself. Silver hair billowing in the current, she declares with a distorted voice, âMy. Name. Is. Eri!â
You hold her steady as she continues to giggle. The cool air is beginning to dry out your lips, and your eyes are growing sore with every blink, but you canât find it in yourself to care. âI like this. Iâm happy,â she says, the confession sincere even as it warps.Â
âGood,â you murmur, stroking your hand over her crown. âWhen youâre happy, Iâm happyâ.
For reasons unknown to you, this gives Eri pause. Her lips pursed, expression adorably pinched in contemplation. Whatever it is, you let her think, and you wait.Â
âAmano-sensei talked about families in class today,â she tells you, turning on her knees with hands folded formally in her lap. Despite her resolve, she is anxiously picking at her fingers. âSensei told us that everyone's family looks different. Some... some people have one mama or one dad, or both. Or none. Or two dads orâ even two mamasâ.
A nod, âThatâs right sweetheartâ.
An irrational bout of nerves settle in your stomach as she gauges you. âSome kids' parents picked them, like my dad did⊠others have two but they arenât marriedâŠâ
âThat is true,â you concede gently. âNot all families are related by blood. Like you and your dad, or you and Hitoshi. But youâre still familyâ.Â
Eri hums, glancing down to her lap with cheeks puffed. You smile fondly when she exhales the air with an exaggerated noise. âThen!â she starts, shuffling closer on her knees, âif weâre family, but you and dad are not married⊠What should I call you?âÂ
For a startling moment, youâre sure your heart is in your throat. She continues, âDo I have two dads? Or two mamas? Or one dad and aâŠ?âÂ
âEri,â your words falter, reaching to still her restless hands. âYou think weâre family?â
Her head tilts. âArenât we?âÂ
The breath is forced from your lungs. Even seated, you feel as if the floor has been stolen from beneath you. Willing away the prickling behind your eyes, you assuage her with a firm squeeze.Â
âWe are,â you warmly avow, âand you can call me whatever youâd likeâ. She beams, any and all uncertainty dwindling, in your mind and her own.Â
Satisfied with the answer, she drops the topic. You think it mustâve been plaguing her the entire walk home, given how quiet sheâd been. More than that, you wonder whether Shouta had laid kindling for those thoughts or if sheâd come to that conclusion herself.
After an hour of reciting her favourite book into the rotating blades of the fan, complete only with your expert cartoonish voices, it is time for a cat nap. It isnât hard to fall asleep when splayed across such comfortable bedding, accompanied by white noise and a cool breeze. But you wake not long after to an obtrusive ray of light piercing through the duvet fabric. The makeshift cave is now sun drenched and warm, and laid on the far edge is a new guest.Â
Shouta is still in his work clothes, laid on his side with Eri turned towards him in her sleep, small hand fisted around his tie. His lips are parted, inhaling shallow breaths. Heâs asleep, too, with an arm extended to rest his hand over your hip.Â
You carefully thread into the spaces between his fingers and watch them both in quiet appreciation until your eyes, too, are heavy. Your chest has never been so full. And as consciousness slips, your heart tips over the cliff's edge and is pulled, inexorably, towards home.Â
You know that tiktok where a guy is at the gym and lays down to do some workout and a girl accidentally sits on his face?
That, but with Bakugou.
You're an airhead, went to the gym only a handful of times, and then when you come back after months of procrastination, they rearranged things around. And you're lost looking for something but can't find it, so you sit down to send a text to one of your friends that work there, only to end up sitting on Dynimight's face.
You turn around to hastily apologize, because holy shit you are mortified, if you could you'd dig up a hole and crawl in it. And you do, apologies spill out of your mouth and when you see on whose face you sat you just run for your life.
For the next two weeks you don't leave your apartament, too scared. You still simmer in mortification, and despite not wanting to, you have to go out and buy groceries, praying all the gods, spirits, fairies, elves, unicorns whoever listens, for that episode to be forgotten and never to be relived.
But luck is not on your side, not when you stumble across Dynamight on the vegetable aisle. You hope he doesn't remember, hope that he hasn't seen your face, so you try your best to act as if you don't know him. And you pretend that the carrots in your hands are the most interesting thing on earth.
"Those feel like polyester. Roppongi market has the best shit."
You jump at the sudden voice, and startled turn around.
Surprise, surprise, Dynamight.
"Oh.. uh, yeah, thanks"
"You're skittish, despite having already sat on my face"
"Oh my God-" again, humiliation crawls up your neck, "I'm so, so sorry, I swear I didn't-"
"Chill angel face, 'm not saying I didn't like it. But you should wine and dine me first"
