#my hero academia fluff
❄️ Home for The Holidays ❄️
My Secret Santa gift for Anilysium. I hope you enjoy it!
Warnings; none, just some cute fluff.
Pairing; Aizawa x reader
Aizawa wasn’t known for his outgoing personality or upstanding social ability, if anything he was best known for his reputation of a firm, fierce teacher and remarkable Hero. While you wouldn’t deny either of those assessments, you knew better than to fall for the hardened exterior he always portrayed. Getting that cold exterior to crumble took time, rather than caving in like an avalanche he melted like snow on pine. A painstaking process, but the beauty of watching the frigid man bloom into an open book was extraordinary. The mask he wears to keep people from getting too close or comfortable sheds the moment he’s alone with you;
You huff, string of lights in hand as you glare daggers at the top of the door frame. It was the last thing you wanted to decorate, already having finished your garlands and white lights through the rest of the apartment. Aizawa had done his best to assist you whenever possible, but between the numerous villain attacks on UA and trying to keep up with the regular school curriculum, he didn’t have nearly as much time to help prep for the holidays as either of you would like.
Stretching high, balancing on the tips of your toes, you strain again to try to get the rope of Forest green to catch on the clear hooks Aizawa had put in for you to make decorating a breeze. Two arms wrap around your waist, lifting you from the floor to be near eye-level with the top of the doorway. Instinctively, you giggle, glancing back at the long-haired man holding you before finally placing the insufferable decor. Aizawa continues to hold you in silence, quietly admiring the way you fuss over the little details to satisfy your perfectionism.
It’s not until you make a soft chirp of satisfaction, head bobbing in approval that he finally sets you down on your feet. The second you touch down, he has you spinning to face him, whisking you into his chest as he bows his head down to place his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and warm, a comfort washing over you like gentle waves on white sand. Smiling, your hands move to cup either side of his jaw, the pads of your fingers rubbing against the scruff that lines his chin.
Everyone else sees the steeled faced, narrow eyed, hardened Eraser Head. But standing in the entrance of your kitchen, you see softened eyes of onyx that shine with sheer adoration. The straight-lined lips that only seem to frown or stay in schooled neutrality in public crack when he’s in your presence. With his arms wrapped around your waist, all he can do is beam with pride, the source of his joy in front of him.
No, the Aizawa Shouta the world sees is not the man that stands before you. His hardened shell sheds the moment he walks through the apartment threshold, transforming into the softened, compassionate partner you’ve grown used to.
“Well, hello, Stranger,” you tease with a giggle before rising on the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. “No Villains making you work overtime?”
“Not today,” there’s a subtle bitterness in his response, knowing that the lull in attacks is bound to come to an end.
Picking up the way his muscles begin to tense as scenarios bombard his mind, you reel him back to reality with a low chuckle, “how kind of them. I appreciate them giving me quality time with my husband.” Dark orbs narrow on you for a moment, taking in the playful grin painted on your face and the exaggeration of your sarcastic gratitude towards the group of individuals who make spending time with your partner a task.
A soft sigh spills from him, another smile cracking across his lips and he presses his forehead to yours. Soft, cool air brushes against your face as he breathes through his nose, merely soaking in the quiet moment with his wife. “I’ve missed you.” He whispers it like a prayer in the midst of the night, a secret meant to be shared between only him and the divinity that stands before him.
Your hands slip from cupping his jaw to rest against either side of his neck. Stepping closer, you drop your head to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent fills your nostrils, a warm comfort of oak and honey. There’s an unspoken guilt he feels for always getting caught up in his work, but you never take it personally, and you do your best to assure him you’ll never hold the actions of others against him. In truth, every villain attack that keeps him you only makes you fret; worried about his well-being, if he’ll come home to you, if today is the today you’ll have to say goodbye to the love of your life.
Today, it’s not a concern. Not as you hold him in your arms, hear his voice murmur in your ear, feel the beating of his chest against your own.
“I love you,” you whisper with the same conviction as he’d spoken with a few moments before. He doesn’t say it back, but the way he gingerly pulls away from you to pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look up so he can press his lips to yours, speaks heaven’s above anything he could say.
