Freshly 131 (adult) || She/her || SNEEZER
Call me Skell || Mainly in the FoM fandom
I'm focusing on my own writing atm
Not really working on fanfiction
Cross-posting on Ao3
My blog is open to people of all identities, neurodivergency, color, and culture
MAPs, lolicons, pro-shippers, and AI âartistsâ are NOT welcome here. Any blogs with a name variation of âSans Titoloâ/âSans Titreâ will blocked. Same goes for empty blogs that have random letters for names.
If you post or reblog untagged explicit NSFW content, or only reblog that kind of content, please do not interact with my blog. I may block you over this.
my works and art are tagged as #My Work while othersâ works and art are tagged as #Not my stuff
Youâre telling me that Yunobo gets to see Darukâs spirit after you free Rudania, but after you free Ruta, Sidon doesnât get the chance to see Miphaâs spirit? đ
*Sales pitch voice* Are you interested in a Sidon x Fem!Reader fic?
Are you interested in a 30k* word story that features falling in love, lots of swimming, and pre-calamity Zoraâs Domain with an adult Sidon?
*Actual word count is not approximated
Well then I have the (in-progress) fic for you!
Princess Out of Water is my current project, and the first chapter will be coming out soon in online platforms near you! (Tumblr, Ao3)
The Summary: You are King Rhoamâs niece, and there is nothing you love more than water. Through a chance encounter, you meet Prince Sidon a month before your royal embassy travels to stay in his home for seven days. There, the two of you grow closer as you find yourself falling in love with more than just Zoraâs Domain
âWhat else can I expect,â you ask? Letâs read the list!
Weekly updates
Alternating POV between Sidon and the reader
Mipha!
A dash of danger
(Hilariously) awkward dinners
No smut
An eventual engagement
If you are interested in being added to the tag list, comment and let me know! Iâll also answer any additional questions you have!
the fever (or: hoshina soshiro discovers he is weak for clingy wives)
Pairing: Hoshina Souichirou x Reader (established, healing era)
Warnings: fluff, sickness, delirium, clinginess, Hoshina being soft, Reader being adorable, a little bit of humor, lots of warmth
Tone: soft + cozy + "he's never letting go"
X oc (alternative for the x oc)
Hoshina is drowning in paperwork.
The kaiju attack yesterday was brutalâno casualties, but the cleanup alone is going to take weeks. His desk is buried in reports. His eyes are burning. His neck aches from hunching over.
He's just finished the last page when his phone buzzes.
Your name.
He picks up immediately.
"Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes. "I was just about to headâ"
"Sou...chirou..."
Your voice is soft. Slurred. Sweet in a way he hasn't heard in months.
He freezes.
"Are you okay?"
"Mmhm. Miss you."
"You saw me this morning."
"Did I?" A pause. "Oh. Yeah. You made tea. You looked pretty."
His heart does something complicated.
"Are you sick?" he asks.
"Noooo. I'm fine. Totally fine. Just... cold. And warm. Both."
"That's a fever."
"It's not."
"Your voice sounds weird."
"You sound weird."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm coming home."
"Noooo, you're busy. Important Vice Captain things. Killing monsters. Being cool."
"I'm coming home."
"...Okay. Bring soup?"
"I'll bring soup."
"Mmh.. I love you."
The line goes dead.
Hoshina stares at his phone.
She's never said that before. Not like that. Not casual, not easy, not first.
He's out the door in thirty seconds.
He finds you on the couch.
Not lying down. Half-sitting, half-fallen, wrapped in three blankets and one of his old hoodies that you definitely stole. Your face is flushed. Your hair is a disaster.
You look up when he walks in. Your eyes are glassy.
"You came," you say, like you're surprised.
"You called."
"I know but..." You reach out both arms. "Come here."
He sets down the soup. Kneels in front of the couch.
"You're burning up."
"Mm. You're cold." You grab his face with both hands. "Cold and pretty."
"Sounds like a fever dream."
"Maybe. Still true." You squint at him. "You have eyelashes."
"I... yes?"
"Really long ones. That's unfair. I want them."
"You cannot have my eyelashes."
"I'll settle for a kiss."
He hesitates. You're sick. He shouldn't.
But you're looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, and your hands are still on his face, and you've never asked for a kiss before. Not like this. Not like it's simple.
He leans in. Presses his lips to your forehead.
"Wrong spot," you mumble.
"Your forehead is the only safe spot. You're contagious."
"Don't care."
He laughsâquiet, helplessâand kisses your cheek.
"Better?"
"No." You grab his shirt and pull. Hard. He tumbles forward, catching himself on the couch arm, and suddenly you're chest to chest, your arms wrapped around his neck.
"You're warm," you murmur against his jaw.
"You're delirious."
"Mm. Still warm."
He should pull away. He should make you drink water. He should be responsible.
Instead, he shifts, lifting you easilyâblankets and allâand carries you to the bedroom.
You giggle. Actual giggles. He's never heard you giggle.
"You're strong," you say.
"I kill kaiju."
"Yeah but you're also... holding me... like I'm... light." You nuzzle into his neck. "Smell good."
"I smell like paperwork."
"No. Smell like home."
He sets you on the bed. Tries to step back.
You don't let go.
"Nooo," you whine, clinging tighter. "Stay. Cold without you."
"You have three blankets."
"Blankets aren't you."
He stares at you.
You stare back. Bottom lip pushed out. Eyes watery (from fever, probably, but also maybe genuine distress).
"You're impossible," he says.
"Impossibly cute?"
"Impossibly stubborn."
He kicks off his shoes. Climbs onto the bed.
The moment he's horizontal, you attach yourself to him like a magnet. Legs tangling with his. Face pressed into his chest. Arms locked around his ribs.
"Oh," he breathes. "Okay. We're doing this."
"Mmhm. Don't talk. Just... be here."
He's not going anywhere.
Twenty minutes later, Hoshina has learned several things:
1. You are extremely warm. Fever warm. He should probably be concerned.
2. You refuse to let go. Every time he shifts, you make a small, distressed noise and tighten your grip.
3. You're still awake. Barely. But your hands are moving.
Touching his face. Tracing his jaw. Poking his nose.
"Boop," you say.
"Did you just boop me?"
"Your nose is nice. Straight. Good for booping."
"That's not... a thing."
"Is now."
Your fingers drift to his eyebrows. You smooth them down with your thumb.
"You furrow a lot. Stress furrows. Shouldn't furrow."
"I'll try not to furrow."
"Good boy."
He chokes.
You're already moving onâtracing his cheekbones, his temples, the shell of his ear. Your touch is featherlight. Reverent. Like you're memorizing him.
"Sou...chi...rou..."
"You're using all my syllables."
"Six syllables. So...u...chi...ro...u..." You pause. "That's six, right?"
"I don't know. I'm bad at math."
"You're bad at feelings too. But you're learning."
He doesn't know how to respond to that.
You don't wait for a response.
You lean closer. Sniff him. Right at his jaw.
"What are youâ"
"Smelling. You smell good. Told you."
"You're a weird sick person."
"You love it."
He doesn't deny it.
Then you kiss him.
His cheek first. Then his nose. Then his eyelashesâone eye, then the other, both closed under your lips.
He makes a sound. Something soft. Something he didn't know he could make.
"Your eyelashes are soft," you say. "Like butterfly wings."
"Did you just compare my eyelashes to butterflies?"
"Mmhm. Now hold still. I'm not done."
You kiss his eyebrows. His forehead again. The corner of his mouth.
You hesitate at his lips.
Just hover there. Breath warm against his. Eyes searching his like you're asking permission.
"Scared?" he whispers.
"Don't want to get you sick."
"I don't care."
"You should care."
"I don't."
He closes the distance.
It's soft. Gentle. Not hungryâjust... there. A promise. A question.
You sigh against his mouth, and your whole body relaxes, melting into him like you've been holding yourself together for months and finally, finally don't have to anymore.
"Stay," you whisper when he pulls back.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
He thinks about all the nights he left. All the mornings he was gone before you woke up. All the times he chose work over you.
"I promise," he says.
You smile. Small. Sleepy. Trusting.
And then you're outâasleep in seconds, still clinging to him like a koala, face pressed into his neck.
Summary: After not seeing him for almost a month, Dabi shows up at your apartment unannounced. Thereâs so much left unsaid between the two of you, but perhaps while you help him with his skin grafts, your feelings and history will culminate into something you both desire.
Content & Warnings: Hurt/comfort, brief angst, healthy/non-toxic dynamic, identity spoilers, skin grafts, needles, stitches, mention of cigarettes, blood, licking blood off the otherâs finger, fire, references to kidnapping (by Shigaraki), vague reference to attempted SA (also by Shigaraki), yearning, kissing, literal sleeping together
In the inky blue of night, a figure stood on your balcony.
Your chest went tight. âDabi?â
He opened the glass door and slid it shut behind him; his posture hunched and his hands buried in the pockets of his grungy trench coat. You shivered from the rush of night air. He looked completely unashamed at showing up unannouncedânot that you expected anything more from him.
It happened to be one of his better qualities.
âWhat?â He rasped playfully. âThey arenât done. The least you could do is finish what you started.â His voice was fried with the effect of someone who smoked a pack of cigarettes every day. You shuddered to think what his lungs looked like. He even smelled like smoke, but that was a natural consequence of his quirk.
Setting down the plate of your midnight snack (cookies), you flicked on a light and went to find your sewing kit. Distantly, heavy boots entered your living room.
âYou could at least pretend you missed me,â he called out, his vocal cords scraping against each other. One day he would burn a hole through that throat.
âOf course I did,â you whispered painfully to yourself. There was so much you had wanted to say before he left you by yourselfâso much you feared you never would. It had taken root inside you and started to fester. Now it was being torn out all at once, leaving a gaping wound.
You went on as if it wasnât there.
Your hands were buried in the floor of your hallway closet, rummaging for your special needle and thread. When you were kidnapped by the League of Villains and held captive, you were lucky enough to have your kit on you, but by the time you were rescued and brought homeârescued by some of the very members of the League, whom youâd grown to love and cherishâyou had tossed your belongs aside. You couldnât bear to look at them. Not when they reminded you of what youâd gained and lost.
The steel-based thread gleamed silver in the moonlight. The curved needle did the same; reflecting quiet, intimate memories you shared with Dabi before he helped release you from Shigarakiâs grasp. Clutching it close to your heart, you stood up and returned to the living room. He wasnât there.
A quick search found him in your bedroom. He stood by your bed, staring at some old pictures on your nightstand. It was unusual, seeing him fill up a space youâd never seen him in. But at the same time, youâd grown used to that stance, that silhouette in the dusty warehouse, and in your present vision he fit here perfectly like a puzzle piece clicking into place. He belonged.
âI found it,â you called gently, waving the kit, making sure you didnât scare him away like some frightened bird that could take flight any second. It was funnyâyou used to be scared of him.
That was before the silent tests of trust. The nights you slowly bonded together over the splinters of this broken world. The nights he kept you safe in his room from Shigaraki, and the nights you spent replacing his staples for something more comfortable. You had started with his wrists to adjust to the material difference. Then his left bicep. Then, with sufficient warming up, you were confident enough to stitch each suture on his face to perfection.
âYou deserve to have a job done wellâeven if your face will still send children crying.â
Youâd said that a month ago as a joke, but you meant the first half with all your heart.
Dabi laughedâwheezedâand nudged you with his knee from where he sat on his dirty mattress. âAt least Iâll have your quality craftsmanship to make me prettier.â
You already are pretty.
You bit your tongue then, and you bit it now as you attempted to thread the needle. When Twice had once called him both devilishly handsome and horrifically ugly in the same breath, Dabi chuckled and dismissed it. âThereâs very few people with this ugly of a mug. Though Shigarakiâs master might be a contender.â
It made you think again over the idea of complimenting his appearance.
You shoved down those current thoughts while you washed your hands and disinfected the needle, though they inevitably resurfaced when he shed his coat and shirt; revealing what laid underneath.
You softly gasped.
The worn purple skin grafts travelled down his entire neck, stopped just above his chest, covered his right shoulder, and went all the way to the wrist you completed so many nights ago. Another patch of grafts wrapped around his abdomen, framed by those awful staples you hated to look at. You knew they made him uncomfortable. They moved with each shift, each bend, digging into his skin and reminding him of the prison he would never escape.
Your fingers quivered when they brushed against his fragile neck. Dabi grabbed themânot forcefullyâand led you to feel along the rest of the grafts he never let you see until now. It had taken him some time to understand that you werenât disgusted with him as he thought you would be, but he still didnât know the extent of how untrue it was. How much you were drawn to him.
You couldnât be injured. You couldnât feel most forms of physical pain. Your skin would forever remain flawless. Despite the deep distress you experienced whenever you gazed upon the evidence of his past, another part of you relished in the sensation of something damaged. Something imperfect. His rough skin was beautiful to you. And if you ever said you loved it more than his unblemished skin, he would rightfully call you insane and disappear from your apartment, your life, forever.
So for now, you cherished it silently.
He sat next to you on your bed, watching your every lamp-lit movement as you started the processâtying the knot, looping into good skin, looping out of bad skin. You were careful, ever careful. If blood started to leak, you wiped it up and continued on. Dabi never moved, only followed your hands with his eyes while his own hands rested beside him. If he spoke, it was a warm breath on a breeze.
âThe heroes keeping you safe now that youâre home?â
You nodded tentatively, trying to get the right depth near his collarbone. He didnât trust heroes to do their jobâthat you knew for certain. He definitely wouldnât have appreciated the eight-hour interview that felt like an interrogation once you were free from the League of Villains. Or the five-hour one the day after. They wanted to know everything about the League youâd learned as a hostage, since youâd been with them for over a month. There wasnât much to give except for the noteworthy fact that some of the members grew to care for you and helped you escape.
You did leave out the personal detail of your less-than-platonic feelings for one of them.
âYeah. I donât suppose youâre choosing to stick around my block for the same reason?â you jokingly whispered, but it had an inkling of desire. Not a day passed since your departure that you didnât think of him, desperately needing to see his face again. And now, here he was, in your bedroom.
Silence followed.
Your eyes began to widen, and you looked up from the metallic thread and staples to find a stitched face that was completely bare to you. Blue flames burned bright in his eyes before he ducked his head away, reminding you of shame or bashfulness.
âI already told you, itâs only fair you finish what you started.â
Biting your lip from nerves, you returned your focus to sewing his mismatched skin together. It didnât take too long to wrap around his body and finish the seam above his chest (though it was awkward for him to lift his arm so you to reach underneath it). For the seams around his abdomen, you kneeled to the floor to reach the lower of the two. He continued to look away, an uncharacteristic thing, and turned around as you instructed so you could reach his back again. Legs crossed, he dragged out a deep, heavy sigh.
âI left the league.â
Your hand slipped.
ââOuch!â
âSorry! Sorry!â You fumbled to realign the needle. Your hands started shaking. Heâd revealed that out of nowhereâhow did he expect you to react? Certainly not with composure. Trying to sound calm, you responded in the only way you could think of. âWhy?â
He ignored the question; instead counting off names with a nod. âToga, Spinner, Twice. We all did. I know you were there for the big fight the night we let you go, but you didnât see the real fight after.â He laughed dryly. âThere was nothing left of the warehouse. That lousy theater kid didnât care for the drama and dipped before everything went seriously downhill, but the rest of us stuck around long enough to give that crusty sicko a piece of our mind.â His hand blindly reached out behind him, so you reached back and he took itâthen squeezed hard. âI wish I had just killed him. He deserves it for trying to hurt you.â
âI donât want to talk about him right now,â you said, shifting to rest your heavy forehead against his back. You craved this closeness, this rare moment with him. âI just want to be with you.â
It had a dangerous double meaning, but he either didnât notice, or agreed enough that he replied, âYeah, me too,â and let go so you could continue stitching him up.
His and the othersâ allegiance to Shigaraki grew thin over the course of your stay as Shigarakiâs behavior grew more and more concerning. Heâd been the one to accidentally discover your immunity to his Decay on a chance encounter, the one to kidnap you, the one to keep you captive for his master who (luckily) resided in prison. It was no question he was deprived of affection. It was no question why he felt a growing pull to you when you could be touched by him without turning to dust.
For that same reason, Dabiâs inner inhibitions relented to your emotional security. He could never harm you, intentionally or otherwise, so he couldnât help but find peace in your close company. Being nigh invincible, you allowed yourself the same, and actually enjoyed your time there. Those feelings also went for the others you befriendedâand they had no reason to keep you hostage for your quirk. So, it was no question that, when Shigarakiâs creepy attachment and disturbing behavior escalated to the extreme, they rescued you. They swept you from his grasp, stood up for you, and put a stop to it.
They let you go.
Your apartment now had never been so empty, or so cold.
âAghââ You winced. Foolishly, youâd lost focus and pricked your thumb on the needle. Blood started beading up, and when you brought your thumb to your mouth, it was quickly moved to a different one as Dabi dragged the pad of it down his tongue. Fire flooded your face as he looked askance at you, slowly lapping the wound once more before releasing your wrist.
Since the upper seam of his abdomen was done in the front, you relocated behind him on your bed. The mattress was not only more comfortable than kneeling on the cold floorâyou could hide your face from view. While you worked around his staples, he removed the ones that were rendered obsolete and set them on your nightstand. The rhythm became calming, and you basked in the growing, comfortable silence once he finished. He leaned onto his knees, baring his worn back in the moonlight, and you had to resist gasping at its beauty. At one point, he would have never let you touch himâbut now? Now, he was making himself vulnerable, letting his guard down, trusting you like an animal exposing its throat.
You fell in love even more.
He flinched when your palm pressed between his shoulder blades, but instead of pulling away, he nestled into it with a deep sigh. You made a risky decision. There was no way for him to feel the kiss you stole from his shoulder, especially when your needle was still digging in and out of his abdomen. Every part of him was pulling towards you like a magnet; drawing closer, hand creeping across the blanket, letting out a shudder when you pinched a seam.
Everything suddenly seemed calm as you tied off the thread and snipped the excess. You carefully removed the remaining staples, ran your fingers along the smooth stitching, and pondered how much better he mustâve felt with the change. You hoped it helped. He deserved it, after everything heâd done for you.
Fondly, you rested your palm on the purple of his back.
He was colder than you expected. There was none of that smoky heat that often wafted off of him or curled out of his mouth like a western dragon. Perhaps he became cold from your absence, just like you did him. It was more than enough though. Dabi was more than enough, and he was all you would ever need.
And he was here, but you had finished your job. You had no idea what would happen next.
As if careful not to stir the waters, he slowly turned around. Your hand fell away, but it didnât matter, because he was closing the distance again and stealing your breath within an inch of your lips.
There was a moment, just a moment, of hesitation.
Then it was gone.
He became fire seeking out oxygen, and his only source was you. It left you breathless. Every touch burned, but not in the way you expected. Whether it be his lips dancing upon yours or his fingers digging into your waist, he banished the cold with his warmth, leaving only thoughts of him.
Dabi.
Cerulean blue filled your lovestruck vision. Flames of passion swirled around his arms, leapt up his body, and caressed your features in flickering wisps. There was no pain, only that beautiful warmth. Even as he leaned back to grant you a second to breathe, he continued to captivate your every thought.
Flame-tipped fingers tilted your chin up. He didnât say anythingâonly admired your face and the way his quirk caressed you without harm. Whatâs more, you could appreciate the way it amplified his affection, allowing you to feel him touch your arms and face all at once and be consumed by his love.
Gently wrapping your arms around his neck, you devoured another kiss. He returned the fervor, and you savored the chapped surface of his upper lip with the roughness of his lower one. A perfect combination.
âYouâre beautiful,â you whispered against his mouth, going back for more.
He pulled backâface unreadable. Your arms were removed by him and he stood up suddenly. âI should go.â
Having no idea what to do, you lurched into the freshly-empty space. âWait.â He was desperately pulled back. âWait, Dabi.â
He grabbed your hands, but he didnât remove them. Not yet. His eyes burned something fierce at you. Be it passion, be it rage, you couldnât tell.
You worried you would cry. âDabi please, donât go.â
He feebly tugged at the hands dragging on his skin grafts. You let go only to snatch him by the fingers.
âPlease, Dabi.â The first tears started to prick. âItâs become hard to sleep without you.â
He slipped from your grasp and almost stumbled. Your pain reflected in his eyes. He was going to walk away with all the warmth and every ounce of hope you ever had. You would probably never see him again, not now that you finished his sutures. Your heart was breakingâno, he was tearing it out and taking it with him.
There was only one thing you could think to say.
âTouya,â you pleaded. âStay.â
Youâd only said his name once before. It was the night he told it to you, whispering it to your ear like a broken loverâs confession, and youâd looked at him longingly as if you could convince him with willpower alone to kiss you. You almost took that leap. Heâd leaned in too. And yet, youâd pulled apart that night, and in less than twenty-four hours, your worlds grew miles apart. It seemed like a gap that would never bridge.
Until now.
âOkay,â he rasped, returning to the bed, cradling your head and tilting his forehead against yours. He brushed your tears away. âIâll stay.â
Your sob was cut off by him joining your lips together, and all your troubles disappeared. His words, his touch, were like magic. A few shorter, sweeter pecks were given to you, and he spent another minute admiring you up close. Apologies came silent in the precious way he held you in his arms. Blood welled up in the corner of his eye and he wiped it away, but you returned the favor from earlier and licked it off his thumb.
âYou donât see me licking up your tears,â he said, observing the wet streaks on your cheeks.
You weakly giggled. âNo, but Iâm sure you want to.â
He leaned in, and you half-expected him to actually do it, but he switched up and dried them with his hand. âThere.â His breath brushed your lips. âAll better.â
You smiled. He was amazing at how easily he could calm you with a simple word and action. Something only he could do. Something you only allowed from him.
âHow long will you stay?â The question was manipulated with the looming promise of another kiss.
âDepends.â He eyed the promise with great interest. âYou got anything I can change into?â
Closing the distance to feel the texture of his lower lip, you said, âyep,â and then led him by the hand to your closet. You revealed washed pajamas in his size. He raised an eyebrow and you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck. âYou can keep them.â It wasnât often he got to wash his clothes, so you wanted him to at least have something comfortable to sleep in every night.
âWhose are these?â he teased once you were properly in bed, wrapping you in his arms and tucking his warm face into your neck. âDo they belong to your secret lover?â
You threaded your fingers into his ashy hair; feeling the exhaustion finally creep in. âMhm. I get worried heâs always sleeping in the same clothes, so I bought them to expand his wardrobe.â
Dabi shifted beneath the blanket. âHe must be so lucky to have someone like you.â
âNo.â You yawned. âIâm the lucky one.â He hummed sleepily. âI get to have him in my life despite all the things that would keep us apart. I hope he knows I wouldnât trade him for the world.â
The embrace tightened. Then, it loosened and he sighed. Before you could ask what was wrong, he brought his lips to your ear. âI wouldnât give you up either. Not for any villain, or any hero for that matter.â
Tears welled up, so you buried them in his hair. This was more than you could ever hopeâever dream for. You could wake up in the morning and discover this was some unfortunate well-crafted dream, but it didnât matter, because he was here now. He was yours. You were his. That would never change, not as long as you could help it.
Dabi fell asleep before you did. His grip relaxed, but he never stopped holding you. His breathing betrayed how safe he felt in your embrace. You soon fell asleep to his natural scent of smoke; inhaling through your nose and delighting in the way he absorbed your senses entirely. His soft snores, the rumble of his chest, the surface of his bare skin. It drowned you in wonderfully warm dreams you never wanted to wake from.
Gentle blue flames.
Gentle blue eyes.
Gentle kisses and caresses.
None of it was better than reality, but the root of it slept soundly with you. All was as it should be.
The cold of morning stayed shielded away with your blanket covering you. Stretching, you reached out next to youâonly to grasp nothing. You shot up and scrambled for any trace of him. The sun continued to welcome you through the blinds during your frantic search, and something bright winked at you nearby.
There, on the nightstand.
It was a gray, round little thing. A ring. Forged from blue flames, it wasnât bright and polished like the staples that were used to make it, but you held it like it was made of gold. Reverently, you tried sliding it on your pointer finger, then your middle finger, then finally found the one it was crafted to fit. The sun caught its imperfect edges and revealed its shallow seams. Thumbing the indents, you felt it seep new warmth into you, thawing your heart and echoing a promise. He would be back. There was no question about it.
Outside of UAâs grounds, a war was taking place.
Not a literal one, because that would be disastrous. It was a war of rumors and knowledge, all created by the hoard of journalists swarming the grand entrance like a shiver of sharks. Their noses picked up on the traces of bloodâthe hints of informationâthat trailed from staff members wading their way through the crowd, and you watched helplessly as your poor coworkers got mercilessly ripped apart with pointed questions akin to sharp teeth and ravenous appetites.
 The analogy was actually insulting to sharks, you came to realize. Dolphins, if anything, had a better capacity for cruelty. You could even liken the swarm of journalists to a circling pack of wolves, but nothing animalistic could compare to the psychological violence of humans. They were their own kind of predator.
And you were the prey, stepping into snare.
It wasnât like you had a choice. With the new dorms constructed last week, you had to take time out of your summer break to bring (and buy) everything you needed for your room. The only things left were a few personal items being carried in your bag. But with so many unanswered questions about All Mightâs retirement, it seemed unlikely you would reach your destination in one piece.
The journalists hounded in on you for any scraps they could get.
âIs All Might still teaching at UA?â
âHow is All Mightâs recovery going?â
âHas All Might given any additional details on his retirement?â
They were suffocating. Unrelenting. Trapping you within a wall of bodies.
Even though you couldnât press forward, the last question was enough to make you pause. Youâd seen the footage, just like everyone else. You knew the extent of the damage. Your grandmother had been tending to All Might personally since the fight, and while she didnât need your help, she confided in you of the tolls it took on his body.
He was worse than most people realized.
And you would never give them anything.
Pushing forward, you prepared to tell them off for preventing you from entering the school, but someone accidentally knocked into you and you stumbled.
You didnât fallâsomeone caught you.
With a strong arm, Aizawa pulled you in by the waist; guarding you at his side from the journalists. You were relieved, then afraid at his expression. He eyed them all like they had each personally stabbed him in the back.
âDonât you have better things to do than harassing UA staff?â He spoke roughly, harshly, leaving no kindness or sympathy. He wasnât threatening, but his disheveled appearance and blood-shot eyes certainly scared them enough to make them back off. It provided a breath of fresh air. Youâd be head-over-heels if you werenât already.
Tightening his hand at your side, Aizawa started for the entrance. The frightened journalists parted like water as he led you through their ocean. You never took your eyes off him. The arm around you kept you shielded from any threats, and a proper glare took care of the rest. Like a knight in not-so-shining armor, he rescued you.
The deadening hoard grew quieter in the background, but still, he held onto you. You began to think he might never let go, given how tight his grip was. It had to happen at some point. You had lives to get to. In the meantime, though, you were happy to be whisked away (escorted) onto school grounds.
Once you were away from prying eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of indulgence; turning to slip your free hand into the layers of Aizawaâs scarf. His touch slid to your back. He no longer looked aggrievedâonly mildly agitated. His hair was long and disheveled. Stubble unshaved. Tired eyes only softening for you.
Handsome as ever.
âThank you,â you told him. While mentally tracing the lines of his face and all the affection hidden there, you spoke slowly to make sure every ounce of fondness seeped through. âYouâre like my own personal hero.â Then, with your gratitude known, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
Holding you closer, he grumbled to himself, âNever shouldâve said that line.â
You tugged on his scarf. âNo no, thatâs not how the next line goes. Youâre supposed to say, âYouâre not the only person Iâve saved,â and then I say, âNo, but I amââ
He interrupted you with a kiss.
You forgot what you were talking about.
His voice rumbled softly into your ear as his arms tightened further. âI was finally given the chance to save you. Iâd consider that a successful career.â
Suddenly dizzy, you let him help you walk across the grounds as he continued escorting you to your dorm building. It was a quiet, peaceful stroll. At the door to your room, you shared another moment of privacy, in which he showed an uncharacteristic amount of tenderness.
âYou doing okay?â he asked, casually leaning against the doorframe and cupping your jaw. You melted into the comfort.
Squeezing his other hand, you nodded with closed eyes. âYeah. Thank you for the help.â
âIâll make sure to talk to Nezu about ushering them off school property.â His thumb rubbed your cheek repeatedly, making you shudder. âEnjoy the rest of your break.â
He no doubt said that because it truly was the only time you could take a breather from your job. During the semesters, it was always an onslaught of injury and illness, so you never had decent time to rest.
âYou too,â you said, but he was already down the hallway. Last second, he paused at the elevator and waved his hand; signaling he heard you.
You couldnât help but smile. You were both hypocrites sometimes, but at least you were there for each other. Without that, who knows where the two of you would be right now. You would overwork yourself. He would have no help with his health. Life would get worse and worse, with no end in sight. The potential change was so bizarre to you that it felt entirely out of place. It would never be. Not in this reality.
As Aizawa stepped into the elevator, you called out to him again. âShota?â
âYeah?â He laxly held the door open with a button.
âPromise me youâll get some rest.â
His eyes rolledânot from annoyance, but from realizing he had to acquiesce to your request. Distantly, you caught a quick, faint smile. âI promise.â
The door closed with a ding.
You closed yours with a click.
The world around you was being upheaved from the rise and fall of villains and heroes, but one thing would never change. You would be there for each other, no matter what. You would love each other until the day you died. You would heal his wounds, and he would protect you from whatever harm came your way. Because thatâs what love was. He was your hero, you were his nurse, and your souls would never part.
Havenât mentioned it at all but Iâm going to be going on vacation so I probably wonât be posting at all during that time. HOWEVER I do have 2 oneshots Iâll be posting this week after I clean them up (Aizawa x reader & Dabi x reader)
Hate hate HATE when I get a new idea for a fic that canât just be a oneshot so itâs going to take a while to write but I REALLY want to write it even though I have other wips I could be working on
