Aizawa Shouta Imagine - Tumblr Posts

Boy, do I wanna take you home

Request:

Aizawa x reader with the prompt “How many drinks would it take you to leave with me?”

Pairing: Aizawa x reader

Type: fluff 

It was late; far later than you had expected to be. 

Hizashi and Nemuri had somehow managed to convince you to get drinks with them after work. You didn’t go out often, especially if it was after work. Teaching a ragtag bunch of heroes-in-training tended to leave you more exhausted than you had ever thought was possible. 

Today had been an exception, however. It had been a fairly normal day of teaching, you had gone over the basics of hero training and the basics of emergency medical treatment if there was a scenario in which it would take a while for a first responder to reach you or a team member. You had, by the end of the day, felt as though you could stay up a bit later and grab a few drinks with your friends. 

“Y/n,” Nemuri slid over to where you were sitting at the bar, resting her head loving on your shoulder as she looked up at you, her eyes appearing larger and more doe-like than normal, “Did you tell Shouta where you are?” 

“Nope,” You hiccuped before giggling, twirling a strand of hair around your finger and reaching for your glass. Much to your disappointment, Nemuri had reached out before you, knowing what you were about to do, and moved the glass towards Hizashi and out of the way of your extended arm.

A pout overtook your once cheerful expression and Nemuri sighed, turning to face Hizashi, “We definitely should call him.” 

Your brows furrowed at this information and you tilted your head, glancing curiously between your friends. Just who were they planning on calling? Squinting, you debated with yourself if it truly mattered or, if getting another drink mattered more to you. 

It wasn’t often you let yourself get loose. Not since you graduated U.A, went through your young twenties as a hero, and became a teacher. You found yourself more focused on making sure you were going to bed early, drinking enough water, eating healthy meals, anything to keep up with the kids you were training. 

Yes, one more drink couldn’t hurt. 

Sneakily looking both ways, and making sure that Hizashi and Nemuri were both occupied, you lifted your hand towards the glass that Nemuri had moved earlier. Wriggling your fingers, you watched in utter awe as your glass slowly drew towards you–it were as though an invisible rope was pulling it. 

A giggle escaped your lips. You were so, incredibly proud of yourself for completing that task. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you to forget your quirk when you were drunk. Bringing the glass to your lips, you froze, your eyes widening as they caught the gaze of a tall man with dark hair and a bored expression. 

Well, hello handsome. 

Your brain seemed to kickstart as the man started to walk towards you and you placed your glass on the counter. Glancing towards your friends, a puzzled look crossed your face as Nemuri’s snickers floated around you and Hizashi shook with laughter. 

However, you shook yourself out of your stumper. You had more important matters to deal with at that moment. 

The matter being that greek god who was walking towards you. Your heart nearly burst with excitement as he stopped in front of you. Oh, today really was your lucky day.

Putting on your most charming smile, you held out your hand, “Hello, I’m Y/n.”

The man raised his brow at your introduction and you watched, confusedly, as he turned to Hizashi and Nemuri. 

“How much did you guys give her?” You almost started drooling at the sound of his voice. It was a deeper baritone, rough, but gentle enough. It reminded you of cotton sheets on a summer day or a fire crackling during the first snow of winter. 

You wanted him. 

“How many drinks would it take for you to leave with me,” You deadpanned, getting straight to the point, and, it was at this moment that Hizashi and Nemuri roared with humor. Your friends were slumped over, their body’s shaking uncontrollably as laughter coursed through them.   

The man, however, gave you a soft smile before fondly shaking his head. 

“None, we’re leaving right now and going home.” 

Today really was your lucky day. 

Nemuri and Hizashi, on the other hand, would never let you live down the fact that you hit on your own husband. 

Patchwork Quilt of Clouds

Comfort piece with one of my favorite comfort characters. Let me know if you guys want more Aizawa, might branch out to Hawks too. Just tell me what yall want to read

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Black!fem!OC. All my OC's have names that can be read as nicknames

Rating: PG, this is literal fluff and comfort

Warning: None.

Shouta found Cutie in their bed, with a literal mountain of pillows surrounding her. Pillows from their bed, the sofa, the guest room and pillows he’s never seen before, all fighting to say on their platform bed until some tethered on the edge. White, black, floral, funky designs and tacky sequined styled pillows painted a sight harsh on his eyes. And in the middle, a big black puff of wild kinky hair peeked out the sea of fabrics. Slowly Shouta put his scarf down on their dresser, then his goggles. With his boots by the door, next to hers, taking off his hero costume was a quick process.

During his disrobing, the erasure hero couldn't help but smirk to himself. Beside the bed, everything was cleaned; even the rug had vacuum tracks. She must have gotten fed up with his mess. Contrary to what students probably thought his home wasn't a dark cave with two pieces of furniture. Shouta was a thirty-year-old man. Of course, he had a coffee table and lamps, along with all the usual furnishings that would be found in adult housing. But despite his age and love for logic, he was a mess everywhere but his job. Before Cutie, he was shamelessly living like a raccoon. Logic be damned, working 2 jobs was tiring and cleaning wasn't a priority.

Coming out of his thoughts, he realized Cutie moved slightly to peer out at him to watch him dress down to his boxer briefs. Brown eyes filled with mirth met his before ducking down to hide in the sea of cotton. “What happened?”

“Oh thank heavens, a hero! Eraserhead, I've been attacked by a villain that attracts pillows. Save me.” Sometimes, she was almost as childish as his brats at school.

“Oh no, it appears I've also been attacked, but my villain makes their victims dangerously sleepy. Must. rest. Now.” His body collapsing into to fluffy void caused a couple of pillows to fall, but still, an obscene amount stayed put. Cutie watched from her spot as her boyfriend feigned fatal exhaustion. Her dark lips pulled into a large grin at how adorable Shouta looked surrounded by pillows, hair strewn in every direction. Playing with Shouta was like playing with a cat. Actually, her entire relationship with him could be compared to dating a cat. And she loved it.

“Thinking about me as a cat again? Really?”

“How-” a stem of catnip appeared right in front of Cutie, the bulb just starting to blossom with small flowers. Pale fingers held the piece haphazardly but behind the hand, a satisfied yet sleepy smile graced Shouta’s face.

“You can be predictable, Cutie.”

“All the time?”

“No, sometimes you're as unpredictable as a toddler. Ow, that really hurt,” his monotone voice lifted at the end when she tapped him on the forehead. Her hit caused a few more pillows to lose their balance and fall. “Exhibit A: the pillow mountain. I think I rest my case.”

“Really? Let the record show the jury looks unconvinced.”

“Objection, speculation.” Guffaws erupting from her short frame was her response. Eventually, it was quiet. Cutie felt the bed shift as her eyes closed. The weight of her partner pressed her body into the now hill of pillows. Then a cold nose nuzzled into her covered cleavage. After work and a shower, all the woman was wearing were sporty shorts and Shouta's sweatshirt.

“Sho!”

“You're warm. You can’t compare me to a cat and not expect me to do cat things.”

“But Sho-”

“Shh, just go to sleep.”

An hour before he had patrol, the hero rose from his position on his girlfriend. The pillow pillars that were there when he closed his eyes were still standing strong. Shouta released a deep sigh before getting up. Garbled words sounded from Cutie’s mouth, probably protest to him moving and taking his body heat away.

Ignoring that, Shouta went to the bathroom. Coming out he found his personal body pillow yawning and knocking down a few more pillows with her stretches. Now the floor around the bed looked like a patchwork quilt of clouds. Brown limbs popped out the remaining mess, freshly stretched, until her full figure emerged on the edge of the bed.

“This was so much easier in my head,” Cutie mumbled. Her hair wasn't that different than before, but Shouta knows she’ll be moaning over not covering it later. As he redressed, she finally tumbled out and walked out of the room. When his goggles settle under his scarf the nighttime hero exited their bedroom.

“I made soba.” a groan escaped his throat. “Just eat a little.”Before Shouta could groan again, brown eyes but quickly to glare at him, daring him to make a hint of protest. “You are not eating a jelly pack when I cooked and slaved over this hot stove to cook for my darling hero boyfriend. Sho I-”

Words kept spewing out her mouth but the black-haired male tuned her out. It would be easier to just consume a pack before his patrol, but his girlfriend was highly against more than two energy jellies a day. Cutie even said when she first moved to Japan the snacks were a complete shock to her. She believed jelly is not a substitution for a meal and her grandmother would ‘have her hide’ if she ate like he did. And thus, one of her first acts as his significant other was ensuring ‘proper nutrition.

“And I don't mean to nag but I just want you to be in the best shape possible to keep the streets safe and kick evil’s ass.”

“Okay, just a little.”

“You weren't even listening to me were you?”

“Nope. but I know somewhere in that speech you said something about caring, so… thanks.”

Cutie did nothing but flare her nose at this. While Shouta noticed, he felt it was best to make the bowls and not say anything. The kitchen was cozy, with only three chairs around the square table, all located in the nook by a window. After saying thanks, both of them began slurping down noddles, Cutie more than Shouta.

“You eat like a toddler.”

“You eat like a woman on a diet.”

“Hmm.” It was quiet after that. He finished before her, but before he could get up and leave, his darling girlfriend grasped his hand. Entwining their fingers, Cutie rose a single brow. Shouta squinted at his wristwatch before sighing and accepting he would be stuck here until the last possible minute.

“So needy.” Sometimes it was best to not acknowledge that fact about Cutie, like when she was already feeling guilty about constantly wanting his attention. But today, and on other days like this, when she had a smile brighter than the sun she could take that statement in stride.

“For you, my beloved, always.”

“Gross.” his expression didn’t match what he voiced, but he had an image to maintain. Not even Cutie can know how weak he is for mushy words. When she finished her food and put down her chopsticks, Cutie wasted no time grabbing his other hand.

“Shou….”

“Hgn...”

“Stay safe and kick ass.”A mischievous small smile danced briefly on his face. He squeezed her hand tight enough for her to curse before releasing them.

“Cutie..”

“Yes?”

“Clean those pillows up.”

You coax your six year old daughter into telling her father about the bigger-than-herself crush she's been harboring for the cute little boy who sits next to her in class, just so you could see the mortified look on your husband's face as he struggled to control his temper while listening to his girl's sweet voice bashfully recounting the story of how they exchanged their first love notes today..

And he's now thinking of a proper plan to intimidate the poor boy and keep him away from his little angel, and probably even make him switch schools.

_ "Come on Shouta, something like that is bound to happen sooner or later." your giggles fill the air as you strive to smooth out the frown plastered across his face with gentle pecks and touches.

_ "Yeah! When she's like thirty or something, not now!" his grip on the thick book tightens as his frustration grows, and you ignore him for a second to try steadying your legs on each side of his waist, "I don't understand why you're not more upset about this, she's your daughter too." and he carries on complaining when you fail to respond.

You sigh contentedly after settling on his lap, snatching the book away from his grasp and reaching out to set it on your nightstand, " well I think it's cute that she's exploring some new emotions, don't you remember when we first met? We weren't much older than her."

His scowl deepens at your words and his stare shifts to the side in contemplation, he does not seem to care for the reminder as it only worries him further.

You bite down on your lip in a futile attempt to swallow your giggles, pushing his soft locks back to carefully remove his glasses and trail soft kisses on the scars adding to his beauty.

_ "That's not comforting you know?" he groans in protest against your statement and holds you closer to himself, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and allowing you to kiss him as you please, "I don't want her developing romantic feelings for anyone, not now not ever, she just needs to be my little girl."

Your heart swells with adoration for your man, the same person who used to dislike the idea of having kids of his own, saying that all he ever wanted was to settle down with you and you alone, to have a little peace of mind after his early retirement, away from the troubles bound to come with children.

However, all of it has changed the moment you were greeted with a lovely surprise that you both shared its creation.. your little angel and source of happiness.

_ "She'll always be our little girl." you murmur against his cheek and kiss him there again, "but if you want, we can always have another." you sit back and watch the expression on his face slowly switching to an amused one as he presses you down on his bulge.

_ "Yeah, and maybe this time we'll have a boy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brother Haruka,”

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

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

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

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

Four months ago, when her world changed.

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

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

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

“She’s just a girl, our little girl,”

“It’s a heathen!”

“She’s done nothing wrong,”

“It’s got horns god bless me!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not in trouble, Y/l/n.”

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

For Y/n, this meant one thing.

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

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

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

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

“Was Iida right?”

Silence. 

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

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

“Kay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A hush fell over the chapel.

She accepted the holy blade from her father.

She lifted it above her head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because you seem a little far away."

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

"I'm sorry, sensei."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made her want to cry.

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

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