the addict and the hero (aizawa x reader)(bnha x reader)

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

when you wake up once again, the first thing you see is that you dont recognize your surroundings, which wasnt a very unusual thing for you, but still wasnt the optimal option. its a room, and youre on a bed, but its not yours. the room is bright, open windows, coloured white and manimalistic while your room is decorated with dark wood on the walls.

you quickly get up and look around the room. minimalist, clean, white. theres noone here. deciding to look around, you open the closet. aizawa. dark clothes, the smell of coffee, cologne, almonds, and the tiniest bit of lavander, like the bed.

stalking towards the door, you open it carefully and tip toe your way out of the room, start walking to the other side of the corridor in this apartment, to your dismay, you cant just run out the door, knowing aizawa is somewhere in the house, hearing some machine is on, a coffee maker, microwave, fan, something like that.

end of the corridor, you see the kitchen, and aizawa is there, leaning with both hands on the counter infront of a coffee machine, a concerned look on his face. hes not wearing his usual clothes, hes in a grey shirt with a v neck line and sweatpants.

his head snaps up, and he sees you, half hiding behind the wall of the corridor, and his back straightens. "{Y/N}" he breaths out, and walks over to you in long strides, opening his arms in the process.

to your surprise, you do the same. taking small steps towards him, reaching with two arms forward, your chest starts to rise and fall quickly as you start panting, and finally, clash right into his chest, gripping on the front of his shirt and burying your face into his chest as he wraps both his arms around you tightly, swaying you gently as he squeezed you close to his chest.

no words are spoken, neither are they needed. aizawa knows that all he needs to do now is hug you, and he'll ask his questions later, when hes satisfied with the length of your hug. your small and fregile in his arms, he feels the bones of yout shoulders on his arms, and you just sink into his chest so comfortably, hes swallowing you into his chest.

you know thats hes going to question you after this. you know hes mad and confused and scared for you, but you dont want it. you want to stay here, in his hug, pressed to his thumping heart, inside his comferting arms that give you the feeling of belonging and heartfelt love more then any man ever did.

silence, the coffee machine is whisteling, indicating the coffee he made is done, he sighs. when you feel his arms around you loose and finally let go, you put your own hands down and clasp them together infront of you, staring down at your white socks covered feet.

aizawa walks behind the counter and pours the coffee into two mugs. "how do you take it?" he asks, staring at the hot coffee. "irish" you reply in almost a whisper, he chuckles, scoffing.

you let yourself to his living room which was like the rest of the house, clean, white, grey and black, a telly infront of a sofa, big window doors leading to a ballcony.

he lives alone, but present mic and midnight are often visitors by the doubled glass windows that served as protecters from present mics quirk, and you could smell the tiniest bit of midnights perfume on the cushins of the sofa.

he has a cat! its a nice, a little chubby ginger cat, and its very well groomed and taken care of, its-well, her-eyes are big and this yellowish colour in them, and the long hairs of her moustache. cat. he misses someones.

you let yourself sit down on his sofa, sinking into the soft cushins, and the cat jumps up and sits down beside you, staring up at you with her big eyes. offering your hand forward, the cat looks at it and smells on your fingers a little before you lift it up a little more and down on her head, petting her, making her ears squeesh under your hand gently as you stroke down her back.