[Aizawa Shouta x Reader]
One would think that having the word 'prison' on a resume would make the owner a wicked, dangerous character. However, that's definitely not the case with a doll-like, dramatic and very cheeky woman that goes by the name: (...
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"Do you feel better now?"
"Yes!"
Aizawa's lips— correction: (Y/N)'s lips— switched up in a poor attempt to smile at the little enthusiastic soul. His eyes glanced briefly to the triumphant figure standing beside him.
Ultimately, things spilled into (Y/N)'s narrative and he ended up having to deal with Tsubaki's mental state post-nap.
The hero is still baffled by the transition of events leading to this point. It felt like he had absolutely no say in controlling this body.
Perhaps, Aizawa truly didn't.
(Y/N)'s will was engraved so deeply in her own body, it was almost frightening.
On the other hand, (Y/N) waltzed around in Eraser's body as if she was born in it. She even recorded herself laughing. Her reasoning being: safe-keeping.
For what? Aizawa didn't know since he was too busy thinking whether it was her way of black-mailing in the future. Though his contemplation didn't last long when he was pulled into the role of a single mum.
It all started after lunch.
(Y/N) barely managed to finish her meal and dragged her tired being to the comfort of the sofa to "rest to her eyes," as she so blatantly said.
Basically she snoozed off.
Aizawa was left alone to cope with the strange feeling of her body, a pile of unwashed dishes and a living room to explore.
Then Tsubaki interrupted his exploration by waking up hungry and needy for (N/N).
Eraser being (N/N) had to deliver while his body snoozed away.
One thing led to the next and Eraser found himself sitting in a therapeutic session with the child, listening to her recollection of the incident.
"Thanks," (Y/N) whispered discreetly to the grunting teacher. She gave Tsubaki plastic scissors and a paper with different drawings on it. "Cut out these dinosaurs and colour them... please."
With the gruff voice, (Y/N) felt the urgent need to add a 'please' to be in Tsubaki's good graces.
"Fank you, Aizawa-sensei!" Tsubaki bowed, taking the paper and scissors and waddling to her mini desk near the balcony door in the living room.
Aizawa sighed heavily, dropping on the couch. It turns out he both underestimated the lightness and giggly effects of this body. For the millionth time, his face flamed up as a hand grazed his forehead, "when will this end?"
(Y/N)'s eyes snapped from Tsubaki to Aizawa. Hands on her hips, she shot back, "wow! Is my body not good enough for you?"
"Don't say it like that."
"Not having to nap constantly or suffer dry eyes all the time, isn't nice?" (Y/N) started her housewife act with enthusiasm only to end it in mumbles and exhales as she dropped herself next to Aizawa. Her head rested on the frame of the sofa and her eyes shut tightly as she whispered, "I have a deep-rooted respect for you, now."
Eraser sat up straight as his hands shot to his stolen body. He rummaged through his pockets so naturally, (Y/N) tensed and bucked at every touch.
(L/N) (Y/N) is being touched by Aizawa Shouta who has every right to touch her because she's in his body.
"So this is happening," the doll breathed out, trying to stay calm and accept this warped situation.
Aizawa frowned as he finally managed to acquire what he's been looking for, "here."
A tiny, plastic bottle was shoved into (Y/N)'s face and she had to lean back, squinting her eyes at it, "oh, eye drops. Thanks."
While she struggled to apply eye drops for the first time in her life, Aizawa's eyes drifted to the framed picture that caught his attention during his exploring earlier.
It was of a younger (Y/N) with shoulder-length hair and a navy blue hat, embellished with the golden letter 'S', Shiketsu High's symbol. Her face was lit with a warm smile as she leaned into a pink-haired girl.
The other girl had a toothy grin and dressed similarly, black body suit and a hat. They both held their respective Provisional Hero Licenses at the end of their linked arms. Each had the unoccupied hand raised up with a finger pointed to the sky.
Proud.
Accomplished.
Happy.
Happier than he'd ever seen (Y/N) in the past three months.
"Is Tsubaki Pink's daughter?"
"Ah!" (Y/N) jerked forward with a shriek at the sudden question which made her squeeze a little too hard on the tiny bottle. The thing burst and the lid dropped into her eye with a shower of its contents. "Sh—!" she bit back to save Tsubaki's ears and covered the abused eye.
Aizawa scowled at the sight as he stretched out for a pile of tissues and pressed them gently on the ailing human, "I guess that's a yes."
"You should be more worried about your eye, instead of Tsubaki's real mother," (Y/N) groaned, dapping the tissues on the attacked eye.
"It happened before."
"Didn't take you for a klutz."
"The bottle is faulty," Aizawa bit back.
(Y/N) snickered mischievously, then sighed. She didn't know if she's picking up sighing as a habit or it's just this body's natural response to... literally everything.
Aizawa's imprint.
"Did Nezu-san hint it? Did I?" (Y/N) asked, getting back into the topic.
"Pink clones herself and you expect everyone to think Tsubaki's yours?" Eraser reasoned.
"Yeah," the doll dragged the word as she turned to look at a mini version of her friend, "she did that."
(Y/N) didn't really want to lie. After all, she didn't admit to being the mother, just that Tsubaki was with her.
Her responsibility.
At least for the time being.
"It's kind of difficult to admit," (Y/N) voiced her thoughts, "one of the top 10 heroes can't take care of her own daughter... there would be no end to questions."
"Is she alive?"
"She is... just not living," (Y/N) revealed with a heavy heart, "comatosed after her last fight."
"Sorry..." Eraser's whisper almost went unnoticed, his eyes downcast in respect to feelings hardly shared by both himself and (Y/N). On a lighter note, he wished to encourage her— if not lighten the burden, at least acknowledge it.
Brighten up her mood despite everything she's going through.
A lost friend.
A child.
A professional crisis.
Aizawa didn't know what this woman was like before all of this, but a dim light of her past still shone through. A beacon in the darkness to help keep her positive, grounded, focused.
Perhaps in all of this she neglected to pay any mind to herself.
Just a desperate, helpless woman following a beacon of the hero she once used to be.
It's odd, but Aizawa wasn't just occupying a vessel. He found himself occupying the flesh and bones of a person's diary and he felt everything immensely.
At the moment, Eraser didn't know whether the desire stemmed from him or the neglected body, but he wanted to say this now more than ever.
