3bk Core

3bk core

pro hero eraserhead

the voices in my head told me to draw cowboy aizawa and who am i to deny them

Class 1-A with a fem! Quirkless reader! Cold, reserved, yet polite and soft spoken when talking, S/O may as well be an Ice Queen. Growing up alone with no love in exchange for massive training and tons of combat experience in illegal underground rings, making her one of the strongest students. Also, she has countless scars and burn marks all over her body from neck to toe, which she conceals by wearing scarfs, gloves, winter clothes. Class 1-A and some teachers reactions?

Characters: Class 1-A, All Might and Aizawa (really brief Recovery Girl and Nezu)

Genre: General, Minor h/c if you really squint, minor angst if you squint really hard + HCs

CW: Abuse (briefly stated but no in-depth descriptions + physical aftermath talked about), F!Reader (uses the girl's change room but other than that nothing else), all relations are platonic

a/n: Hi anon! Thanks for the request (only took me forever lol), hope you like it :)

Honestly, everyone thought that you were either cold or that the extra layers had something to do with your quirk. Both were plausible conclusions and there had been no other indication it could be some other reason. However, within the first week, the quirk theory was debunked.

Of course, this bred questions upon questions. How the hell did you pass the entrance exam quirkless? And just what are you capable of doing out of the field?

When the opportunity was presented, many not so subtly hinted at you to join the first round of the exercise. Finally, they’d get to see what you can do! Come the end of your round let’s just say they easily understood why you passed the entrance exam and never questioned it again.

This also left them with their final - and only - conclusion that the bundle of clothes you wear is due to you being cold. A few ask if you’d like them to turn the heat up so you could take off an article or two, though you always decline. So be it, they don’t push.

Midoriya has tremendous respect, adoration and idolization for you. Whether he lets it be known or not really just depends on the day. After all, you made it to UA quirkless, the one thing he thought was unachievable. Hell, the whole class may have some ounce of respect for you, seeing as the achievement is inspiring.

They all care very little about your personality or how you first come off. Deep down you’re nice and kind and polite and that's all that mattered to them. You’ll come around eventually, most do.

It's the girls that find out about your little secrets first. Concealing 101 and you trip up; a rookie mistake while changing after class. Shocked and horrified gasps are all you need to hear to know you've let one of the nastier scars show.

Whether you tell them the truth, just some of it or none at all, most will be on the verge of tears. No matter what you say though, they all know that tremendous pain is linked to that mark and insist on reporting it to the police. No accident would leave those scars. And if not the police then at least Mr. Aizawa or All Might (of course, none force you to take this step. They know it's not their place).

Regardless of how much your story was told the ladies all silently agreed to never let slip what they saw that evening. Unfortunately, everyone else knows by the end of the week; another, similar mistake regarding a looser shirt on a warm day slipping down just right being the cause.

It’s more wide-eyed looks than a verbal reaction. You're tossing between running or letting things play out naturally. However, given how your body is locked in freeze mode you don't think you have much of a say. Only when the looks of understanding, curiosity and sympathy (or is it pity?) register are you able to get to your feet. You're making a beeline down the hall and to the safety of your room where no one can see the darker parts of yourself. Unfortunately, it all comes to a crashing halt (literally) when you run into Mr. Aizawa.

Even though he was able to stop you both from falling over the wind is still knocked from his lungs. There’s a quick scolding on the tip of his tongue, something about no running or watching where you’re going, but it quickly dies off when he sees what’s got everyone silent.

The scars are one thing, they’re marks he’s seen often on both himself and others. No, what really has his heart dropping to the pits of his stomach is the branded insignia etched into your skin. He knows it far too well but it’s also something he never thought to see again.

Coming to his senses a mumbled, “…be careful next time," is what leaves his mouth instead, carefully letting you go to walk off to your room. Whatever the Pro Hero was going to say to everyone before doesn't come, instead, he too turns back the way he came. There are some things he has to think about about.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, Aizawa's mind plagued with memories from years ago. He knows that you can't save everyone, it's not always possible, but he could have sworn he and a few others rescued all the victims from the underground ring case. If you slipped under the radar then just how many others did he and his team miss?

There’s a mix of rage and guilt swirling in his chest as he finally drifts off. Aizawa knows what went on in that illegal organization and to think you went through more than you had to because of his negligence? He’ll be kicking himself for it for a while.

Come morning - a weekend thankfully - there were a few ways Aizawa thought to approach this. One was to relay this information to the other Pro Heroes, the ring could still be happening for all they know. The second option was to call you into his office in the dorms and talk with you. Of course, the second option was what he went with.

The room was thick with awkwardness; you, unsure why you'd been called in, and Aizawa was unsure where to begin exactly.

"That symbol... I know, (L/N)." Your teacher didn't have to say much more for you to get where the conversation was heading. He asked if there were others still out there and if there were if you would share their location and any names you might know. Though, he paused in his onslaught upon seeing you curl into yourself.

"Sorry. I just..." want to help. To stop the monsters that do these things to the innocent.

He gives you a moment to calm down before asking if it was alright to continue. Aizawa went slower with his questions, fetching you some water to sip on throughout and staying quiet as you spoke until you were done.

He's a man that gets straight to the point, and at times a man of few words, but he knew that no words would be able to convey how grateful he is or how proud he is that you told him all you could. Even if you couldn't or didn't tell much, it doesn't erase how brave you are for trying.

You have yet to gain your hero license but already you're saving lives. "Thank you."

With your permission, Aizawa told the other Pros that he felt should know. All Might was one of them. He took the news harder than Aizawa did, having worked on the case as well, but he was the one that proudly and confidently stated that all victims had been saved. That every villain was apprehended and that no one else was to be harmed because of them. What a joke - he sees now what a liar he was.

The former number one apologies to you. Full on “I’m sorry... for failing you...” because that’s what he believes he’s done. And in some ways, that's what he did. While others got to go home to whatever families they had or live better lives, you sat chained to a cold and lonely routine, unable to leave the side of the group who used you for their own personal monetary gain and sick entertainment. But perhaps, another part of you wants to forgive, because you too know that the operation was huge and that there are always those few that aren't found. Who are you to hold it against them when they obviously did all they could? Besides, it's not their fault for being deceived - told by those they caught that they had everyone, that there was no one else to catch.

When you were advised that Recovery Girl might be able to patch up and ease the more prominent scars, you weren't sure what to do or say. Still, you figured it wouldn't hurt to go and see her. The moment the little old lady peeked at your skin her smile faded. Before, she had kept a conversation going with you but now she continued her examination in silence. She'd been told what to roughly expect but she couldn't be prepared for the sheer volume of it all.

As soon as the old woman finished she told it to you straight: "I'm sorry dear. At best I can give you something to allow them to fade but I make no guarantee that any would disappear." Despite the news, you thank her and leave with the cream and ointment she prescribed.

Nezu asked for you to visit him a few days later. While keeping his cheery tone he told you that if at any point you couldn't complete an assignment, accommodations would be made for you. After all, he wishes for all UA students to be safe and succeed - you included. (And perhaps it's because he too understood a fraction at least of what you'd gone through. He knew the trials it takes to get back on your feet and that there is no easy, straightforward path.)

Your friends encourage you at times to shed the scarf or jacket you wear around the dorm, assuring you that your scars don't scare them and that they won't judge you for them. While old habits are very hard to break (especially when tied to something traumatic, something that each of your classmates understands is hard to unravel) there are times when you can let yourself breathe just a little easier and stay cool during the warmer months. In these times, it's the little achievements that go a long way.

The whole class makes it so that they watch their tones and movements - they don't want to accidentally bring forth a memory. Half the class already was pretty quiet but it's students like Bakugou that you can really see the change in. Anyone can see that if you're around his voice isn't as loud compared to before, or that there are fewer and fewer times his hands will pop with mini explosions. Midoriya, Mina, Ida, Uraraka, Denki and Kirishima become more aware to tone down their own voices as well, knowing that they can get pretty loud at times. Shouji watched where his extra limbs were and Tokoyami instructed Dark Shadow to not creep up on you.

Todoroki will sometimes randomly come up to you and share a tip or two on how to care for your burns (both long-term and for any more recent ones should there be any) while Midoriya tells you how he personally maintains his scarring.

There was only once that everyone collectively told you that you could talk to them if you'd like. A few pointed out that if you were told repeatedly then you might be inclined to not reach out, hence their decision. Teachers, classmates, whoever, you could talk to them if you want or need to. Each of them would be there for you no matter what and they want to make that clear. Whether you reached out or not is up to you.

Tag list: @tickotaku // @dorkylittleweirdo // @thylocalcrackhead //@unidentifiedzombie // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @lordbugs // @akiria12167

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hello! can i request an angsty fic with aizawa and f! reader where they break up? thank you!

i hope you enjoy this! i did it from his perspective, hope thats okay! also i know he probably wouldn’t actually be like this in a relationship, but for the fic, this is the only way i could see him being at fault :3

always appreciate reblogs and comments! if you’d lie to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

In the worst of the aftermath, Aizawa was not angry. He was never angry, not truly. Not even when he’d snap at his friends for bringing up her name, or when he’d feel rage churning in his stomach at the thought of her being with another. He was never angry. 

He was sad. So devastatingly, core achingly sad, that it kept him bed ridden for days at a time. Work, come home, eat and sleep. It wouldn't end. 

He’d always considered his quant home a safe haven, but lately it’d been feeling like a prison. It felt like a haunting museum, little bits of her as far as the eye could see. The memories were so vivid, he could still almost see the figure of her standing in his doorway. He could see her leaning on the window sill peering outside. He could see her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in a cup upon his sink. He could see her under the covers with him, hushed laughter and soft snoring into the early morning.

Even now, he see’s her beside him in bed. He see’s the indent of where she should be, now terribly empty. It makes him feel cold, alone. 

But, being alone had never been a huge issue to him before all this. In fact, he knows it was the downfall of him. 

She’d just wanted him to go out with her now and then. She just wanted to take photos with him, hold his hand out in public without feeling like she’d been forcing him. 

Aizawa buries his face in his hands, his back leaning against the cold wall, blanket curled around his waist like a weight. 

All she had wanted was just a little more life. Just a few more kisses, a few more hugs. A few more signs that he truly cared for her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She knew he loved her, why couldn’t that be enough? 

He refused public dates that weren’t anniversaries or events. He hated photos. He hated when she’d clasp fingers around his own, hated it because all it brought was attention. Paparazzi's scavenging and ruining every affectionate and tender moment they’d shared together in public. 

He never understood why it had to be public. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she would insist they get out and so something together. Why couldn't hanging out in the seclusion of his home be enough?

Always so stubborn, especially when it would have been the correct time to give in. His annoyance and unwillingness to be anything other than slow moving and low maintenance drove her away from him. He was just fine being on his own, so why couldn't she?

‘I feel like you’re embarrassed of me,’ She’d cried, having hit her breaking point. ‘I feel like you don’t even really care about me.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens. Of course I care about you. Why else would I want you here?

He should have said that. But, he didn’t. Just silently witnessed the destruction unsure of what to do next. Unsure of whether to argue, or remain dormant and quiet. Not quite apathetic, but he was never one for a shouting match. 

Unfortunately, he chose to remain still in the face of a crumbling heart. 

‘Even now, you won’t say a word. You don’t ever talk to me, Shota. You never ask how my day was, or if I want to go do anything. Why do I feel like I’m just here so you’re not lonely?’ She’d had fat tears welling in the pits of her eyes. She looked drained, broken. ‘I need more,’ Voice cracking, a terrible realization she’d stumbled upon. ‘I need more than that.’ 

It was a tense moment of silence. She shook her head and choked back a harsh sob.

‘Then that’s it.’ Lip trembling, feeling unwanted. ‘I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m leaving.’

At the lucid memory, Aizawa wish's he could go back and punch himself in the head. Say something, you idiot, he’d scream. Tell her to stay.

She’d passed him by, and the door slammed shut before he even turned to watch her go. 

It’s been weeks now, and he can’t seem to get his head right. It’d taken days before she came to collect her things, something he hoped would never come to be. A stupid part of him believed that she’d come around for some reason. It’d happened before- her storming out, him never changing, her missing him enough to just... Get over it. This time, however, was much different. 

Sinking in the memories, Aizawa feels his throat tighten at everything she’d said, and even worse, everything he didn’t say. His phone lights up beside him. 

yamada: are you still moping in there???? come out w us tonight! you need to get outta bed at some point

yamada: its been weeeeeeks!!!!!!! come on!!!!!!!

Aizawa knows he does. He knows his friend has been trying to get him to leave since it happened, but it’s hard.  He answered his friend, deciding that tonight he would in fact go out for a few hours just to clear his mind- anything is starting to become better than seeing a home empty of her. He sends the message, and his heart grows heavy.

He said yes to his friends when he was feeling sorry for himself, but never for her. He knew he deserved it, but it hurt not having her anymore. Especially when all he had to do was say yes sometimes. 

What stung the most was that he didn’t get to see her when she came to collect all her items, cram them into a box and leave for the last time. He’d hoped at that point, if it ever came to that, he could convince her to stay. But.. She hadn’t told him she was coming. Perhaps because she knew she was bound to give in. 

He came from from U.A., hoping that she’d be there, sleeping soundly or sitting terse on the couch ready for an argument ending conversation. 

But, she wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of her was. All her things vacated. Everything but the memory of her stripped away. 

Aizawa had stood stunned in the doorway. Then, it all came crashing down. She was serious this time. It was set in stone.

She’d really left him.

He didn’t think she’d actually leave him. Arguments were always so easy for Aizawa. He was a firm believer in ‘take me as a I am, or don’t take me at all.’ But, he’d never realized just how much changing she’d done for him. 

When he’d first met her at a group outing, she was full of life. She was bouncy and energetic. She had a sea of friends, a world of opportunities. But with him, with Aizawa’s stubbornness combined with her need and want to spend time with him, she went out less and less. Contacts in her phone dwindled from a vast ocean to merely puddles. 

Seldom she went out, and on the rare occasions she was able to get Aizawa to go, she’d dress in her best just for him to chastise her. ‘We’re not going anywhere that fancy,’ he’d remark, not noticing how her eyes fell. ‘Aren’t you a little over dressed?’

Guilt tore up his heart, now. She was always so beautiful dressed up like that, how could he ever say those things? Too late did he notice how she’d changed everything for him. Lost friends, missed outings, just so she could remain by his side. He did everything wrong and wasn't even willing to see it. He felt like a neglectful, stubborn, ass. 

Forcing himself up from bed, it takes all his strength to get up and wander into the bathroom. He’d need to start getting ready then if he was to go later. He was a slow moving creature, after all. Lazily, mentally drained and exhausted, he opens the mirror and pulls his toothbrush from the little shelves inside. The mirror swings shut and he’s met with his dreadful reflection. 

His eyes are even darker, redder, than they ever were with his quirk. Even he could tell he looked worse for wear. Drained, emotionally vacant yet so powerfully overrun with them at the same time. He looked dead. He brings the toothbrush to his teeth, but can’t bring himself to find the motivation to actually begin cleaning up. 

So tired. 

He just wants to sleep again. 

He wants to text her. But he doesn’t.

Tossing the toothbrush into the sink, resting his elbows on the edges and allowing his head to hang in sorrow, he wonders what she’s doing right now. It’s a warm Friday evening, the blue sky wide and clear. He’s sure she’s going out tonight, finally allowing herself the freedom to make up for all the time she’d missed with her friends. Friday’s were always Aizawa’s least favorite day. He just knew she’d want to go out, and he’d always combat it with a movie she’d been wanting to see, coming up with some random excuse as to why it wouldn’t be an ideal idea to go out. 

Then, he’d ignore how she sadly watched her friends social media stories about the night, and ignored their texts asking why she’s never around anymore.

God, what he would give for one more Friday night with her. He’d dress up, he’d take her somewhere so nice even he would be afraid he couldn’t afford the food. Her and all her friends. Whoever she wants, the whole world if need be. He’d do anything she wanted, strut her to a party on a red-carpet. Anything just for another Friday night. 

Aizawa’s eyes cast back up to his reflection. A lump forms in his throat, he watches his eyes glisten with tears. He wants to fall into the floor and forget about everything. 

Pushing himself away from the sink, he shake his head and gags on how tight his threat feels. Without even a moments hesitation, he finds himself right back in his room, pulls the covers aside, and drowns in them all over again. It’s dark, it’s cold. His own rooms uninviting without her. 

Yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave it.

His phone sits on his pillow. Aizawa opens his friends message. 

‘im going to stay in tonight. thank you for inviting me. im tired’

Aizawa doesn’t even want to see the messages his friend instantly starts blowing his phone up with. Instead, seconds after the text sends, he holds the power button until the entire screen goes black. He rolls over to face the wall, and he feels like he’s made of led. He swallows hard and gives into sleep all over again. His arm slings around a pillow, and he clutches it to his chest. 

A forever inanimate reminder of where she once laid. 

In Sickness and In Sickness [Eraser Head | Aizawa Shouta]

Content: Fluff, Sick Fic, Sick Character, Established Relationship

Pronouns: None

Header: @/oliries

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Of course, he would get sick. As if being exhausted fucking constantly wasn’t enough. He just had to overwork to this point. Your stupid fucking wet cat of a husband, doing stupid wet cat of a husband things like being outside while it’s fucking raining and thinking he’ll wake up fine the next day, and on top of that—wait, what were you doing again?

You heard a string of coughs from the bedroom.

Oh, yeah. You were making Lemon Tonic.

For the both of you because he got you both sick.

You coughed into your elbow and looked into the fridge, grabbing a lemon and a bottle of liquor. You placed it on the counter and grabbed a pot from the cabinet. You sniffled as you filled it with water and sat it on the stove. You sliced up half of the lemon (almost cut yourself), put it in the pot and turned on the eye. You opened the bottle and poured a reasonable amount of liquor in there and put it back in the fridge. You left it to boil and went into the bedroom to check on your sick cat-like husband.

You poked your head in, “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” He mumbled. You made your way to the bed and flopped down on it.

“Same,” You grabbed a tissue and blew the shit out of your nose, “I wonder who’s fault that is?” You elbowed him in the side. He grunted and shoved your arm away. You started to laugh, but it agitated your lungs, and you ended up in a coughing fit.

After catching a gleam of that bright light, you checked the nightstand for any painkillers and sighed when finding they weren’t there. You begrudgingly got back up and went to get it from the bathroom. You grabbed another box of tissues as well, since Shouta was making a snot rag mountain of his own. You sat it on the nightstand and went back into the kitchen, turned off the eye, then grabbed two water bottles. Quickly dropping them off in the bedroom, you returned to the kitchen and grabbed two mugs, then filled them with the Cold Killing Lemon Tonic.

“Alright,” You sat in the bed and handed him his mug, “Try to drink this quickly.” You took a sip and burnt your tongue, but mama didn’t raise no bitch, so you kept going.

Shouta stared at you for a long time before finally drinking the Lemon Tonic like a shot.

“Okay show off,” You grab the painkillers and water, “you’ll be needing this.” You swallow yours without water like a damn boss, but still drank a bit after to make sure the pills went down.

Shouta again only stared as he did the same sans the after the fact water.

You glared at him a little.

“Now what?” He put the water bottle against his face, “didn’t you say this was sort of a miracle drink?”

“I didn’t say miracle drink,” you got underneath the covers and tucked him in as well, “I said Exorcising Drink.”

Shouta blinked, “What?”

“This drink will literally exorcise the sickness out of you.”

“…”

You gave him a Cheshire grin. “By sweating.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope! Now shut up and sweat!” You tucked the covers under your chin even snugglier, “Don’t worry. The sickness will come at you full force, so it’ll probably knock you out pretty quickly.”

He was quiet for a moment, “Remind me to never eat anything from your family again.”

“Yeah sure, no more peach cobbler for you then.”

“I take it back.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, shut up and sweat!”

“I told ya it would work,” You danced around Shouta in the kitchen. “But…”

It was the next day and the both of you were back to full health. Shouta didn’t seem all too pleased about it, though.

“So, why do you look like you’re pissed?”

He groaned, “I have to go back to work,” He shuttered, “back to night patrol.”

You laughed, “Who said we were going back to our jobs,” You nudged him, “we can play out this sickness a little longer.”

He grabbed you by the waist and gave you that maniacal smile that you loved, “I’d like that.” You grabbed him by the cheeks and gave him a quick peck.

“Great! You can take me on a date!”

He gave you a blank stare.

“…or chill at home and call that a date?”

He, like the gentlemen that he was, escorted you to the couch to put on something to watch while he grabbed the snacks.

“Next time we’re going out to eat though!”

Lemon tonic is the truth.

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