Short Idea. Platonic! Yandere! Harbingers x GN! Adult! Low-Rank Fatui! Reader x Platonic! Yandere! Tsaritsa
Warning: Platonic Cuddles, platonic sleeping in one bed. A very strange idea.
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You were nothing special. Just a low-rank Fatui. Not even a full soldier, you were just a guard in Zapolarny Palace, and, from time to time, do odd jobs. A glorified servant, as you often jokingly call yourself. But payment is good enough, food is fine, and you have your own room.
Then one night you wake up, because someone lay down next to you, and start spooning you. You looked back, seeing Lord Tartaglia. Harbinger looked exhausted, and already out cold. You recalled, that last few days were pretty hard for Harbingers. It seems, he either mistook your room for his, or thought yours were an empty guest room.
After some thinking, you decided just let him sleep. He wasn't hurting you, and, besides, guards might see him leaving, and neither him or you need rumours and speculations about your supposed relationship.
You woke up alone. The same day you receive a gift basket full of pastries and an apology note for getting into your personal room and space from Childe.
It would stay just a silly little memory. But in a few days, right before you went to bed, Childe knocked on your door. He, once again, looked exhausted. He asked you... to let him cuddle you again tonight. Because last time he had the best sleep in last few months. He was tired, he wanted a calm place to rest. But he will leave, if you don't want it.
You let him cuddle with you again. It was a strange request, but it was harmless.
"Childe's Cuddle time" became somewhat of a norm. Tartaglia visited you few times a month. He even starts to bring tea and snacks, so you two can talk before cuddling. You learnt about his family, about his protectivness of children, his hobbies. You also shared some information about you with him. You listen to his troubles, offered some worlds of encouragement.
Then one night, Childe appeared in your room with company. Signora was with him, and he looked guilty. Apperently, other Harbingers noticed, that he looked more well rested, than the rest of them, so they pressed Childe for answers really hard. In his defence, he wasn't planning on telling about you, but when his colleagues' guesses became "deranged", he felt the need to protect your honour.
So... Signora wanted to try this "magical cuddles" for herself. And, once again, you could say 'no'.
But you said 'yes'. She looked as bad, as Childe before the whole cuddling situation.
So, yes, you spend the night being a cuddle pillow for Signora.
Now, there also was "Signora's Cuddle time". And, she also start bringing treats, so you two can talk over tea before cuddling.
Now two Harbingers looked well-rested, because of cuddling with you.
It means more will come.
Next time, you were visited by Sandrone. She brought the whole tea set and enough food to feed a small army. You listen to her troubles. She has to lay on you, but, still, you two cuddled.
Now, you have three harbingers visiting your room for company and cuddles.
Then, three became four. You sure, that Columbina just wanted to know, what the whole deal was, but, she visited you quite often. She also was quite a clingy cuddler. She also decided to use Sandrone's tea parties as your and her "pre-cuddling bonding time". Parties, that, on top of Childe, Signora and Sandrone, were visited by Arlechinno and Capitano.
Soon you get two more cuddlers.
Arlechinno put more emphasis on pre-cuddling. She shared her troubles with House of Hearth kids. She liked hearing your thoughts on the matter. But, despite the emphasis, she always stay to cuddle.
Capitano didn't sleep, but he found some solace in your heartbeat and breathing.
The rest of Harbingers soon joined the line.
Pulcinella was the only one, who didn't cuddle. But he hugged, and spent hours talking with you.
Pantalone was the first one, who took you on a walk as part of "pre-cuddling bonding". And he was another clingy cuddler.
Dottore treated it as experiment. You guess. He wanted to test, how playing with hair, tracing lines and positive affirmations affect the efficiency of cuddling. Or, maybe, he wanted more, than just a hug, but didn't know how to ask. Oh, and he was the small spoon.
Pierro talked. A lot. About past, about future, about current. He also likes spooning.
Surprisingly, Pierro wasn't the last one to join this little activity. It was Scaramouche. Balladeer during cuddling reminded you of a cat, who clearly wanted pets, but acted not-interested and offended.
You acsepted cuddlers Harbingers. Then, one night, Tsaritsa herself appeared on your doorstep. With cake. And quietly asking for cuddles.
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For you, the whole ordeal was just a strange but harmless thing.
For Harbingers and Tsaritsa it was one of the only beacons of warmth and acceptance in this world.
They liked you. Not romantically, platonically. You were not just a close friend, but someone who understand them, and who let them be vulnerable.
But their love, while platonic, was obsessive.
You make them happy, so they will make you happy.
Childe dealt with soldiers, who were treating you badly.
Signora silenced servants, who slacked off while cleaning your living quarters.
Sandrone sent adventures that were laughing at you to do the high risks commissions.
Columbina scared the living lights out of civilians, who were biased towards you because you were a Fatui.
Arlechinno tracked down your bullies from school and dealt with them.
Capitano broke bones of high-rank officers, who were planning on dumping all their work on you.
Pulcinella destroyed reporters, who caught a wind about you and Harbingers and were planning to write a slandering article.
Pantalone bankrupt multiple salespersons who sold you less than perfect goods.
Relatives, that wanted to leech on you, disappeared forever in Dottore's lab.
Pierro arranged for your parents a good wealthy life in any nation they wanted. Just, not in Snezhnaya...
Scaramouche will assist in lightly pushing your parents to move away.
And Tsaritsa will make sure, that you will have every reason to stay in Snezhnaya. Stay in Zapolarny Palace, where she and her harbingers will keep you safe and happy.
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By Her Majesty The Tsaritsa’s name, successor of The Belyi Tsar’s decree, a new order shall be bestowed upon you in a discrete envelope. This was no mission for the public’s eyes, yet it is supposed to be performed in utmost conviction so none could suspect otherwise – a pretend marriage, where you and your Harbinger are the grand performers. You thought this was a jest, a cruel farce by The Tsaritsa, yet her pick who plays the Innamorati of this stage was no coincidence; after all, the Archon of Love knows best.
✧ Pierro’s gaze did not falter as he received the orders. His steps were unwavering as the golden soles echoed closer towards you. He recognized your glances of tumult, yet you could not decipher any hint of disagreement on his face. Must his icy star-shaped pupils always be so indecipherable?
“I presume you have already read The Tsaritsa’s orders, my divine. We are to be wedded in a faux-union. Do not sulk so, for no mortal has the privilege of having the Cryo Archon personally officiate their vows.”
You pleaded silently in your mind, was this your prison? Or why was the Jester too calm with this conundrum? You tried to reason with him that such a pretend relationship will serve no purpose to either the Fatui or you two. Yet the Jester insisted, his figure standing tall behind you, already planning with a sharp gaze.
“If we are to perform these roles, it must be more than merely 'convincing'. Do not fret, shared residence will be arranged to the highest standard.”
A wedding ceremony was thrown, your arm linked elegantly around his. His suit is pristine white beside your matching lavish attire, snow-white petals of rose scattered above your heads. You argued that a simple civil marriage could’ve sufficed, with the signing of a certificate instead of this whole celebration. Yet standing now amongst all of Snezhnaya with a convincing smile felt like a blur of a fever dream. Your brain could barely conceive the voices of guests congratulating you, until Pierro's gloved hand lands by your waist as a foreboding reminder.
How much can one put into a pretend wedding, you pondered to yourself. Unless The Jester secretly had a masterclass in acting, why did he slide the wedding band so delicately with a reverent touch to your palms? Why would his hands slowly turn your head to place a tender kiss on your lips? Your overwhelming thoughts would be laughed off as a newlywed’s nervousness. Many awed in compassion as they saw you beside him.
“I still don't understand,” you huffed with exasperation later on, seeing how your personal clothes were placed in a shared closet with your now-husband. “If we needed to fool all of Teyvat into being wedded, wouldn't a soiree suffice? A marriage certificate, maybe? What purpose is there that we, uh, live under the same roof when no one is watching?”
“Hm? Are our private quarters not to your liking? I assumed the intricate mezzanine would've been to your fancy.”
“No, no. I'm talking about the shared bedchambers when it literally doesn't matter what we do in our privacy. This is all a pretense either way, right?”
But the Fatui Directory was busy in his own world, your reasonings echoing through his numerous plans of spoiling you as the perfect spouse; the Tsaritsa’s official approval to bless your relationship was merely a guarantee you'd carry his name in yours. After all, only he had the means to communicate with the Archon of Snezhnaya; she was merely fulfilling her part of a deal by ensuring you were promised to him.
‘I have led my Harbingers to your cause and sought out every gnosis. You know the price I seek.’
‘A deal is a deal; you have fulfilled your duty, Jester. Now go, you shall play a new role with your promised one.’
Either way, the Harbinger shook his head and smiled faintly. His arms naturally wrapped around your torso from behind:
“Ah, is my cherished already kicking me out to sleep on the couch tonight? I see you are so invested in this marriage, you are already playing a natural. Newlyweds first bickering…”
“Pierro, you're evading the subject!”
✧ Hearing hushed whispers that you are Il Capitano’s promised betrothed ushered in a newfound sense of dread. Not only to you, but to the tongue of gossipers who viewed the Captain as a mighty warrior yet an enigmatic being shrouded in shadows. How were you supposed to receive such news when the mere idea of pitch blackness behind that helmet eats at your heart like the void? You had every right to be anxious, fidgeting with the nails of your fingers. Yet when the Harbinger met you personally to talk, all fears dissipated when he spoke first:
“I… Do not wish to impose upon you. Not as an equal nor as a gentleman.” – the golden chains chimed as he bowed his head low before you, his armored hand on his chest. “I understand if this predicament is beyond our control, yet I wish no animosity or unease between us.”
His sudden words struck you silent, noticing the faintest tremor beneath his austere voice. That’s when it dawned upon you – The Captain was as nervous as you.
“No, no, I- I understand. I also wish for us to get along, even if we… if we are to play pretend.”
A tense silence ensued, as both hoped to veil the awkwardness each of you felt. Yet the two of you stood, like timid sweethearts anchored by their mutual apprehension, with glances that dared not meet and instead finding solace in the view of the ground.
“May I ask then,” – you ventured softly. “Have you ever wished to be in such a relationship? I do not wish to assume, but I thought a Captain of your renown is far too busy to concern himself with a marital status.”
A quiet sigh escaped the Harbinger, a subtle shift in his shoulders let him ease up, yet his voice still carried that solemn might:
“I may be a Captain first and foremost, yet I was once a man like any other. It's not that I seek to intimidate others, nor do I deem closeness a weakness. But rather, I fear imposing my duty and work into the personal life of someone dear…”
You nodded thoughtfully, “I see… this is indeed a relief. Then, perhaps if you will, we can call it off? Or perhaps find you someone more suitable?”
Your words of cordial clemency were met with an uncharacteristic silence before Il Capitano simply replied:
“... I don't regret the decision taken by the Tsaritsa.”
You blinked at him.
“Unless… you do not find me as a worthy choice, and wish for another?”
His apologetic comment does not oblige with your bafflement. How can you compete with the Captain's modesty when his words bore such unfeigned sincerity – he does not wish to foist, yet to have such an arrangement granted him by Her Majesty, The Cryo Archon, there is no man worthy enough to repay any dowry when you are the promised hand. And the countless battles he won? The numerous expeditions he carried out in the name of the Fatui, returning with tarnished armor and triumphs from foreign lands? His actions were not merely for glory; it was so that he might be the first to receive the blessing of courting you. Even if you weren't aware, he competed for the privilege.
And if he has to slay the Heavenly Principles themselves for the honor to be the first you may call husband, even for nothing more than a pretend political marriage, then he shall make the pretend stage built on meadows of Inteyvats flowers. Unfortunately for himself, he may be courageous when slaying beasts, yet timid as a school boy when talking to you, his future betrothed.
“N-no, no. Do not assume me wrong, Capi. If we play pretend, then let's make it as peaceful and easy-going for us in our future betrothal.”
“Indeed, we shall do our best.” – His hand clasped yours. “You have my word, you shall not be bothered in a forced engagement. Allow me to honor your name beside my own.”
Thus, bells tolled, and a small, modest ceremony was organized. His regal coat flowed behind his broad shoulders, while his hand securely held yours after the Captain vowed not only as a knight to protect you, but as a husband. The guests, however, were oblivious to the marriage façade forced by the Tsaritsa. Only a few Harbingers and close family were invited, and as expected, Childe shed tears of joy seeing his two favorite people being wedded, sniffing into a handkerchief.
How can anyone suspect the Captain was pretending when he saw you hurry by the steps, your crystal shoe accidentally slipping off your foot? He'd kneel without a word, tenderly slip the fallen footwear back onto you, before gathering you in his arms to carry you bridal style. A knight honored by the duty to be yours, and a newfound title he'd wear with pride whenever he is introduced as your “husband”.
“This is just an act, right, Capi?”
“Ah… apologies, I already forgot we're pretending.”
✧ You have not been the least bit troubled by the sudden demand to be in a pretend marriage with Il Dottore. Everyone knows he'll sneer and mock the Tsaritsa back if she requests such a ludicrous social theater from a Harbinger like him. A single glance at The Doctor would suffice to see that he would not indulge in such folly.
…Except he was grinning right now. Very eagerly.
“This is ideal. This is perfect. It's all coming to plan.”
You took your words back. For reasons beyond comprehension, your brilliant maniac was not calling off the marriage, and you were beyond perplexed. The mere idea sounded so obscure, you hoped that Dottore would be the one annuling this whole farce. Yet here was, with his sharp teeth grinning and hands clasped together as though a long-awaited experiment that had fallen neatly into place.
“Do you not see, my dear?” – Dottore leaned closer, his gloved hands landing on your shoulder. “We are going to play pretend, like the most stereotypical family. This is the perfect opportunity!”
“Opportunity for what?! What do we gain from this?”
“To blend in, to fool naive passerby that we are the most average couple. To study how such puny idiots settle with their fragile social constructs to find comfort in an illusory sense of belonging,” – his grin widened, “think about it, dear. The status of the Fatui will not linger upon you; from now on, you shall be wedded to a… simple, humble man. A feeble scholar, of modest means.”
Your brain blanked out. Not at the mental image of walking hand in hand with the 2nd Fatui Harbinger as two honeymooners, but at Dottore’s audacity to be excited about it. You argued and reasoned with him, claiming he could easily consult books on sociocultural relationships if he needed to collect data; this endeavor was below you two.
Yet the harbinger crossed his arms, tugging at your lack of enthusiasm. “I assumed you would be ecstatic. Or is my countenance not suitable enough to be considered “husband material” when seeing it first thing in the mornings in bed? We'll deal with the nuance later; for now, we have a new responsibility as a family.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. Before you could question his words, Dottore very casually lifted a child in his arms – the youngest segment, the perfect image of little Zandik from his days of youth, with his messy hair locks and defiant ruby eyes. He handed you the segment into your arms and unceremoniously announced:
“We now have a child. Congratulations.”
You stared at Dottore in horror.
The young kid looked less than pleased to be part of this experiment. How are you going to explain that you suddenly have a child, no older than seven, mind you, when neither of you has been seen with a child? You don't know. But you swore, should anyone dare to ask, you’d tell them that Dottore was the one pregnant.
One progress was made in this pretend marriage – the art of quarreling like a couple.
Eventually, the two of you reached an ultimatum within the newfound circumstances, treating it as a covert operation akin to a spy mission, one where a fake marital status was required. So you relented. Whenever you walked the secluded villages of Sumeru, with a child in hand and Dottore in tow, local grannies would awe at the sight of such a delightful family – ‘look at the little boy clinging to you, he's a spitting image of his father!’
Dottore huffed in uncharacteristic pridefulness. You, however, chuckled nervously, secretly planning to punch that grin off his face once night fell. But there was something else more important bugging your mind – the young segment. He was sulking and following worldlessly, forced by the Doctor into this role as a “biological child”. You kneeled by the boy and tried to drop the saccharine pretense of a parent:
“I'm sorry that Dottore has dragged you into this. I hope he wasn't a big meanie to you. I'll tell you what, let's not make this a chore for you. Let me buy you some Candied Ajilenakh Nut, hm?”
This routine persisted out of obligation, and while even the Harbinger felt out of place as your “loving husband”, he stared in curiosity as you got along with the kid. The child beamed whenever you listened to his rambling, the two of you making truce by branding Dottore “a big meanie”. One would argue you even spoiled that young segment with sweets, or often going shopping to buy beautiful stationery items for education. New notebooks, pens, and folders. He observed you helping the kid choose a lovely new backpack, adjusting the straps on his shoulders, and encouraging his earnest opinion.
Dottore didn't intervene. He didn't have it in him; instead, with a quiet hand on your waist, he paid for the shopping spree. The image of young little Zandik, perched in your arms while you let that boy have the best clothes and school items of his interest, was a contradiction to what a certain boy actually had 400 years ago. Or rather, never had. The segment may be a mirror image of him, except he never bore such a radiant smile, inspired by you.
✧ Upon receiving news of the sudden “pretend marriage” to Scaramouche, the Harbinger avoided you like the plague. He was nowhere to be seen, suddenly occupied with matters in Inazuma, never once writing to you in regards to the sudden decision. Naturally, you felt heartbroken. Not that you were surprised by his reaction. Human sentiment was not a language the Balladeer was known for.
But you hoped for his reassurance, and his silence gnawed at you. Maybe neither of you needs this imposed relationship? Why can't things stay the way you two previously were: close, untainted by false titles? You prayed he didn't despise you for the circumstances forced by the Archon.
Eventually, you were summoned to Inazuma to prepare for your own marriage. The Harbinger's best subordinates accompanied your travels as messengers and dutiful servants, bowing to the soon-to-be-wedded spouse of the 6th. Adorned in resplendent white Shiromuku, you were taken care of with utmost elegance, as the servants adjusted your sleeves. However, even they noticed the cloud of melancholy looking upon you.
“Huh? Lord Balladeer, detesting you?” – one servant gasped. “Perish the thought, the 6th has done nothing but toil to arrange the most grand ceremony for this occasion.”
“Indeed, he hurried to change even the flowers and decoration to be based on your preference, stern on each detail as always.”
You were baffled.
Yet when the day of the small ceremony dawned at last, Wisteria flowers were hung by an arch, carpeting the cobblestone floor with lilac petals to a shrine. Scaramouche awaited you by the steps, his black Hakama kimono creaseless as his porcelain skin. When his gaze finally met yours, he quietly beckoned you with his hand.
“You look exquisite, as expected,” – he murmured, his gaze not scrutinizing or distant. It was apologetic. “I'm sorry to keep you waiting, I needed some time to make prepa-”
“Scara!” – your voice echoed through the shrine courtyard, ignoring the clanking of your Geta sandals, you rushed towards him “Why didn't you tell me you were arranging all this?! Was it so hard to at least send a word, to tell me that everything is alright?”
“H-hey, hey, calm down…!”
The shrine mikos and a few Fatui subordinates exchanged awkward glances while you scolded the young groom. He was flustered, hands coming to clasp your own in a vain attempt to cease your complaining.
“I'm sorry, alright! Just do not blame me, I was as surprised at this foolish decision as you.” – he ushered you beside him with a hand holding yours, with the other wrapped around your shoulder. He could not deny, you looked beyond elegant in such a traditional wedding kimono. “I didn't wish you to think I took this occasion as a joke.”
“You mean… you're not against it?”
The young puppet held in his pride. He guided you gently by the shrine, his gaze averted in modest timidness.
“I hoped… that even if we were to feign such naive, domestic bliss, I would not be enough to give you a memorable ceremony because you were forced into this. So instead, for just this once, let me pretend to be yours like a normal human marrying his second half. Even if it's a selfish dream.”
✧ You? Married? To Pantalone, of all people? Hilarious, you thought, except it was not the first of April to spread such bizarre tricks. Yet when a close acquaintance approached you to sincerely congratulate you on the sudden announcement, you realized you were absolutely in trouble.
Was Pantalone informed by the Tsaritsa? Was he in on this? Because you prayed to the stars above, he will refrain from overdramatic reactions and-
“Ah! My sweetheart,” – he busted in, approaching you with renowned zest. “My fiancée. My darling. My beloved, adorable spouse.”
He definitely didn't overreact. His arms shamelessly wrapped around you, one hand cupping your cheek to pull you in a very much smothering kiss on your face.
“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, I see you have heard the news,” – he casually waved a hand off to the circle of well-wishers. “Yes, indeed, we decided to make it official at last. Now, if you'll excuse yourself, my darling and I have much to discuss. Isn't that right, dear?”
That forever polished smile of his tightened the same as the hand that anchored on your shoulder. You were, without a doubt, in big trouble.
“As you can see, Her merciful Majesty The Tsaritsa expects much of us, darling.” – he explained, his hand on your back as the sight of his familiar office greeted you, welcoming one to sit on the leather armchair; free at last from prying eyes. “And a contract is a contract, as you know. We will be assigned as a married couple, an act that would surely fool those Snezhnayan elites when they see we are planning lavish celebrations. Lots of occasions for making connections.”
You crossed your arms – “I'm not playing the role of a trophy spouse for you, Pantalone.”
“Oh, so crude. You don't wish to boast your status as the fiancée of the richest man alive? You'll have everything at the tip of your fingertips, you know. I could be the trophy husband, if that pleases you more.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Indeed, for one so young, yet so perilously business-minded, many questioned the Harbinger’s relationship status. Luckily for the Regrator’s wit, a fake but carefully picked wedding band gleamed on his right ring finger where, in Snezhnaya, such symbols of union customarily rest, accompanied by his usual profusion of tasteful ornaments. People would kill for your position today, but you refuse to let some hollow decree compel you into the charade of devotion for mere spectacle. But it appears even the Cryo Archon decided to take matters into her own hands and settle Pantalone’s status.
“And what's the catch? We can stage a wedding, smile to the crowd, then we don't have to reside or share any further space if it's just for the public eye.”
A document was slapped flat onto the table with a loud thud, Pantalone's smile never once wavering as he slid the paper closer to you.
“A contract, dear, is a contract,” – he reiterated. “The stipulations have been settled plainly for us. Or did you miss the fine print in the footnotes? This is not just upholding a public image; not for a moment can we allow suspicion to take root.”
You winced, your gaze tracing the endless jargon of the contract he presented. His words punctuate each rule: shared accommodations, shared chambers, shared life. It doesn't help that the deadline for this pretense of a marital status is “until further notice”.
Alas, this was your cruel fate. Tethered to the 9th and dragged into his orbit as if the two of you were latched by the hip. At every soirée, he introduced you proudly as his betrothed, his public affection a deliberate signal that both of you are off limits. You forced a smile. It's thankless labor to endure these social gatherings when his hands remain caressing your waist. Therefore, to catch him off guard, you resolved to reclaim the stage in your own fashion.
Amidst idle chatter with his fellow investors and guests, you decided to lean in and tenderly kiss his cheek.
Silence uncharacteristically robbed his poise. You didn't know Pantalone could make the tip of his ears redden on command. Is that even a skill one trains for?
“Dearest, don't make me a melting mess in front of our guests,” – he murmured, his frayed voice not going unnoticed before the guests that chuckled. Your simple gesture won over everyone.
“It's alright, honey, I'll show you more when we're back at home.”
Now you must see who the regrator truly was in private, when he shed his pretenses to disarm his businesslike smile. Behind his mask was another. A face mask, to be precise. He was dressed in towel robes, having just emerged from a thorough bath, his face covered in some opulent moisturizing facemask and hair wrapped in a towel.
You blinked and stifled a scoff.
“Don’t you dare laugh. Where is my kiss? You promised.”
“Wait, are you serious? I was clearly joking in front of people, Pantalone. Or is the contract now mandating obligatory kisses even in the privacy of our own home?”
“... It will be soon!”
(this is 10 pages long... Why did I do this to myself? Also, titled part I in case I get inspired for more silly scenarios.
Ryland hates not knowing things others know. Right now, those "others" include just you and Rocky. You know Ryland hates being left out of the loop, so you decide to use this quirk to entertain yourself by getting Rocky in on a joke. It takes a little work to explain the concept to your Eridian friend, but Rocky is incredibly smart and sassy, so you are sure it will work.
You start implementing your plan the next day. Ryland finds you in front of Rocky’s glass ball, whispering to him. Rocky’s melodic chords echo in response, but Ryland can’t hear the translation because you have the laptop close to you with the volume turned down low. Ryland is already confused, he woke up alone, missing the usual feeling of your warm breath against his neck. Why are you up so early?
“Good morning” Ryland says, cutting off your whispering. You turn to him, feigning surprise. “O-Oh! Good morning, Ry!” you say in a chipper voice. This immediately makes him suspicious, you are never this cheerful right after waking up. To make matters worse, Rocky lets out a series of frantic tunes. Ryland can’t understand Eridian yet, but he can tell Rocky’s tone matches your energy.
“Um, what are you two doing?” Ryland asks, stepping closer, “and why is the translator turned down? What are you talking about?”
You turn up the volume of the laptop and smile innocently, “Nothing! Just getting to know Rocky better”. As soon as the volume rises, the translator speaks Rocky’s words “Correct, correct, correct” played far too quickly to sound natural. Ryland looks between you and Rocky suspiciously, but he lets it go when you quickly distract him by bringing up a fascinating Eridian ritual.
The rest of the day follows the same pattern. Ryland repeatedly catches you and Rocky whispering. The moment he tries to join the conversation or asks what is going on, you both brush it off and change the subject. It feels like a secret is being kept from him. He hates it. He absolutely hates that his partner and his alien best friend are talking about something behind his back. What could you possibly be discussing with an alien that requires this much secrecy? Great, now he is convinced you are both gossiping about him.
Later, he looks over to where you are pretending to work with Rocky, though it is obvious you are just chatting. Ryland’s mouth immediately forms a pout.
When you glance over to see if your plan is working, you catch him pouting without realizing it. “Dr Grace, you wanna tell us what’s got you pouting like a kid who just got homework?” you ask, breaking his train of thought.
“Huh?” he stammers, “Shut up!” He clears his throat and rolls his eyes, “If you two are done gossiping about me, we can call it a day”.
Rocky emits a series of chords, and the translator speaks “No gossip. Grace not interesting to gossip about. Statement”.
Your laughter bounces off the walls of the Hail Mary. Ryland looks genuinely offended. “Oh my God!” You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, “You’re getting roasted by an alien, Ry”.
Ryland groans, throwing his head back, wondering what he ever did to deserve being trapped in space with the two of you.
Seeing him look so dramatically defeated, you decide it is finally time to let him off the hook. You step towards him, and pat his arm. "Okay, okay" you say, looking up at him with a grin, "we weren't actually gossiping about you, Ry. It was all just a sort of a prank”. Ryland’s eyes narrow, "A prank?"
"Yes! I know how much you hate being left out of the loop" you admit, giving his arm a playful squeeze. "So yesterday, I spent an hour explaining the human concept of a 'practical joke' to Rocky. I asked him to help me mess with you by whispering and acting suspicious today”.
Ryland blinks, processing the information. He looks past you to Rocky, "Rocky? You were in on this?" A succession of high-pitched musical notes fills the room. Even without the translator, the rhythm of the chords makes it obvious, Rocky is laughing. The laptop speaker translates “Yes! Is fun. Statement”.
Ryland lets out a defeated sigh, but the pout finally disappears from his face, replaced by a small, affectionate smile. He rests his hands on your hips, looking between you and Rocky.
"Unbelievable" Ryland mutters, though there is a clear fondness in his voice. His arms tighten around you, and his voice drops as he looks down at you, "You’re going to make it up to me, baby”.
“Make up for what, Ry?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a teasing smirk, “for making you think that you’re interesting enough to gossip about in the middle of deep space?”
You burst out laughing as Ryland groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide from your teasing. From a distance, Rocky’s rhythmic chitters follow.
“I’ll show you interesting later” Ryland whispers against your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he squeezes you closer.
Hellooo! I would like to make a bnha request with alpha Aizawa with a shy omega s/o. (This is my first time requesting omegaverse so sorry if I write something weird). What if his s/o is scared of alphas because of the rough things they hear from their omega friends? s/o was already hesitant getting into a relationship, afraid if Aizawa is the type to get possessive and rough.
Take the lead
Alpha!Aizawa x ShyOmega!Reader
I Masterlist
A/N: I haven’t done something for Aizawa in so long! He used to be my favorite character to write for and this makes me nostalgic for when I first started writing fics. This ask got buried in my drafts, so sorry it took so long to get to.
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You were soft.
That’s what everyone said at least. It’s not something you took offense to but it made life just a tad more difficult. As if being an Omega in a world full of pushy Alphas and Betas wasn’t enough. Some may have bristled at the fact yet you took it in stride, allowing your demeanor and presentation to give you an advantage.
It seemed only fitting when you began working as a daycare employee, helping others where you could and spending your days with the children- who were a lot less troublesome than adults. The others seemed almost jealous at the control you had over the rambunctious little ones, their eyes and ears tuning in the moment you called for their attention, listening with rapt attention. Any other time they could be found clinging to your legs, pleading to come look at their latest creation or join them for a game of one kind or another.
You were a natural at it. So much so that others began to question why you weren’t at another school. One with better funding that were more prestigious. Where the ratio of children to adults was much lower and less stressful. But you liked it where you were. The workers were kind and the salary wasn’t awful. There were times where it was stressful but what jobs didn’t have their moments?
Besides, it would be too painful to have to explain to the children why you were leaving. You often told yourself you would look for another position when the last class of kids graduated to going to grade school but by the time that rolled around you had already gotten attached to the new ones.
The children who ended up here tended to have their own difficulties. Oftentimes due to the emergence of quirks or troubled family backgrounds, the majority of the staff holding both psychology and early childhood development backgrounds in order to work here and be able to properly help those that came through the doors. It was a scary world out there, and if you could provide at least some comfort to them for even a few hours a day that would be enough for you to feel as if you were contributing something positive to their world.
Then, each day when you were done, you would go home to your apartment just a few blocks away, walking with the other teachers as they headed towards the train station. The proximity was another reason you refused to leave, less of a chance for anything to go wrong, for anyone to take advantage of you. The others knew enough of your fear not to tease you about it, kind enough to provide the comfort of numbers whenever you went out. You were the only Omega who worked at the center after all, and looked great on pamphlets to be able to say that there was one on staff with the decreasing numbers in recent years. Still, as much as you loved your job there were some things that were more difficult to get around.
It was a shameful thing that you couldn’t get rid of, your fear of Alphas. Not logical, as you had tried to convince yourself. There were hundreds of thousands of them in Japan alone, outnumbering Omegas but still below the number of Betas. It was impossible to completely avoid them, which is why you had taken the opportunity of the daycare. All the workers were either Betas or a few other Omegas, even run by a Beta couple. The children themselves were far from presenting and allowed you to live in relative peace. Only the stray mention from the others about one attack or another, some story or rumor they had heard about a nameless Alpha, shushed when they noticed you nearby. They didn’t need to. Your mother had done enough when you were younger. She and your father had both been Omegas and their pairing earned them a fair amount of scrutiny and ridicule. Alphas upset about the fact that two Omegas chose to pair with each other instead of an Alpha reducing the ‘dwindling supply’.
“Never. EVER. Trust and Alpha.” They had both warned you. “They’re not interested in anything beyond you being an Omega, no matter how sweet they talk.”
The fear had been ingrained in you from an early age as they enrolled you in schools specifically meant for Omegas, while in college you choose courses specifically taught by Omega and Beta professors. As much of your time was spent study and doing work as it was spent avoiding any Alphas on campus. Their words seemed to only be proven right when an Alpha from your philosophy class had begun following you around to the point one of your friends needed to be with you at nearly all times. He was aggressive and pushy, intimidating in the unique way only an Alpha could be, and you were thankful when you graduated that he moved away and you would never have to see him again.
Since then you’ve been living your life in relative peace, mostly going from work to home as your time was taken up by planning activities for the children and continuing your own education with some online Masters classes at a leisurely pace. There were a few dates here and there but nothing that ever lasted. While it wasn’t ideal, a part of you craving a connection that went deeper than being just friends, you were content for the most part, burying yourself in your work and supplementing yourself off the praise from your coworkers and boss. This in turn lead to volunteering for even more work activities such as you found yourself at now.
Orientation night for the new year. Full of nervous children and parents alike. Normally only a few of the teachers needed to be there but you had been asked to help and which you gladly agreed. Not like you had much else going on a Friday night. Tasked with working the craft area to keep kids occupied and help them get squatted with one another while their parents walked around and talked with the staff, you were making sand charms in little plastic bottles, helping them pick out colors and fill them up. Something easy and which you were more than glad to do, paid overtime to do essentially do crafts.
More than once you could feel eyes flicking towards you in curiosity, the only Omega at the function that wasn’t a parent, and even though the scent of some of the parents being Alphas out you on edge your teaching aid, a young man by the name of Shizu who was in school himself and would be shadowing you for the semester, helped to curve their attention when any approached. It seemed your coworkers had informed him of your aversion to Alphas and while a bit embarrassing you were grateful for the fact that they looked out for you in such a way.
It was towards the end of the night when the stream of students and parents ruined that you noticed her. A little girl standing by herself, clutching a doll to her chest like it was a lifeline. She hid behind the leg of a sharply dressed woman who was talking with one of the owners-Kori-her eyes curious as she watched the others at your table. The woman was vaguely familiar and you remember seeing her in the office a few times, each time with a different child. A no-nonsense Beta, though nobody ever had anything overtly negative to say about her. She was direct and competent, but not overly aggressive in the way others who came in could be. Once before she had even helped fix the copy machine, a sharp kick putting the machine into submission and back to spitting out papers for fear of the woman:
When the little girl noticed you watching she startled and quickly hid herself further behind the woman who looked down at the movement, following the girl's gaze to see you watching them. She seemed to try and encourage her to go over over but she wouldn’t budge, hiding behind a curtain of snowy hair.
Excusing yourself and leaving Shizu in charge, you made your way over to them. Kori smiled wide as she noticed you approaching, quickly introducing you to the woman.
“This is Cozue. She is the social worker who works primarily with us. I don’t think you’ve properly met yet.”
“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” The woman extended her hand, the scent of Beta drifting off her. “I’ve heard plenty from both Kori and some of the students. All good things I can assure you.”
“Well that’s good to hear.” You smile,, exuding as much calming pheromones as would be deemed social acceptable as you crouch down to the little girls height. “And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
She hesitates, pressing the plushy of what you can only assume is some hero to her nose, eyes wide as she looks up at the adults above her. The Cozue gives a small nod, stepping aside so you can see her fully. She’s adorn in a cute dress, a bow tying her hair back away from her face, allowing you to see the brilliant red of her eyes.
“My….my name is Eri.”
“Eri. What a lovely name.” Extending a hand halfway towards her, she backs up just a step. “Would you like to come do a craft with us. I promise it’s a lot more fun than standing around with the adults.”
She looks between your smiling face and hand, outstretched to meet her halfway, palm up. After a moment she hesitantly takes it and you feel a rush of excitement, leading her back to the table with the others and helping her get set up.
Despite her earlier shyness she seems to open up around the other children, falling into conversation with them as they discuss the best colors to use. She fills one of the flow charms with swirling pinks and yellows.
“Can I make two?” She asks when you explain that she can attach the charm to her bag for school. There’s planets of materials and the night is already winding down. She perks up at your approval, reaching for one of the cat charms and organizing a tube of grey sand to contrast the yellow she clasps in her other hand.
Her placements seem even more deliberate than before, asking for some help to get the yellow placed for the eyes. It’s not perfect but passable, and the way Eri beams at the trinket after it’s finished assures you it’s nothing short of perfect.
When Cozue comes to collect her she seems more at ease, even waving goodbye as she follows the woman back towards the front entrance. As you help
Pick up for the night you can’t help but feel a bit lighter despite the hour. Hopefully all the kids you met tonight would have a good time in the coming year, though your thoughts lingered on Eri, remembering the way she had talked so enthusiastically with the boy next to her about heroes when he noticed her plushy. Maybe you could talk with Kori about getting them in the same class since they seemed to get along so well already.
———————————
It turned out that you would not have to worry about Eri and Cho, the boy from before, as both had been placed in your classroom. A fact you discovered when making up name tags for cubbies that weekend after being sent your class list. You took care to make sure her own tag was a cat, grey just like the one she had made.
Where Eri was timid at first Cho had no such reservations, the social butterfly of your classroom talking to anyone and everyone. You worried at first that Eri might feel a bit left out as he made new friends but it seemed she was brought along wherever he went, always looking for her. While it wasn’t abnormal for children to have an interest in pro heroes- the opposite in fact, with more outliers being in the category of not having any interest in them- it seemed your class in particular had many who adored them.
There were commonalities among favorites in debates you sometimes had to step into to avoid tears and fights. All Might was a fan favorite of course, while Edgeshot had also taken a rise in popularity within the class. There were always debates firing snack breaks, recess filled with games of heroes and villains- in which you often found yourself taking part of the villain who was desperately trying to avoid being caught by a gaggle of heroes chasing you across the lawn- but despite it all Eri never wavered in her favorite.
“Eraserhead!” She proudly declared at circle time, the starting question of everyone going around and saying their favorite hero. It made sense given the plush she always carried around with her. What was a bit abnormal was the Ferber in which she defended him, nearly getting into a fight when one of the others called him washed up and boring, leading to nearly a fist fight as Cho got involved. After apologies were said and everyone was sent back to their seats to work on ways they could have handled the argument better you pulled Eri aside. It was unlike her to have such a temper so it seemed reasonable to check in that everything was alright.
“He was part of the group that saved me.” She admitted, lip trembling and eyes still red, clutching the plush to her chest, inhaling the scent to soothe her. Something she did often and you assumed it was scented by someone close to her on a semi-frequent basis. You would sometimes catch the notes or crisp apples early in the mornings, and it clung to her at times on Mondays.
“He makes sure I have everything I need and promised to keep me safe.”
You felt your heart melt a bit at the teary confession. It wasn’t uncommon for the students here to be either surrendered or taken into custody by social services, and while you didn’t know Eri’s full story you had doubts that it was a happy one.
“I’m sure he will, and I’m so happy that you love him so much.” It was complicated, as you encouraged them to solve conflicts by themselves but sometimes an adult still needed to step in to avoid situations like this. That afternoon for story time you made sure to pick something about how everyone likes different things, and how that was a good thing and made everyone who they were. You also assigned them a project to write about someone on a more local level who is not a hero but does hero work.
“Not every good thing is big.” You explained as you passed out the slips with names. “Often it’s the small things we do that can help someone the most.”
While there is a bit of grumbling they take the slips without issue, and when you head home for the weekend you feel both anxious and hopeful about what will be brought in on Monday.
As you spend time inside gathering the last of your things and making sure all the chairs are put up, Eri waits by the pickup area for her name to be called. When she spots a familiar face approaching around the corners she doesn’t wait, the attendant barely has time to call before she runs past towards the man at full speed. She barely manages to stop in time, bumping into long legs as Aizawa reaches down to steady her. He doesn't mention her excitement. It was the weekend after all, and that meant he got to stay with him apart from the rare occasion.
”Did you have fun at school?” He asks as they walk hand in hand. Eri nods enthusiastically, talking about anything and everything. All the stuff they did for the week in art class, new things she’d learned in her science class, her friends, and especially her teacher. Aizawa felt relieved at her excitement, remembering how nervous she had been when the topic of going had first come about.
Even as her newly appointed legal guardian he couldn’t be there all the time with his work, his coworkers and students were more than happy to help when he couldn’t get the time away. He had done hours of research into choosing a school that would be good for her and he was relieved he had chosen correctly it seemed. The leaps and bounds she had made in coming out of her shell these past few months was nearly dizzying as she grew more social with her peers,
He had been a bit disappointed in himself for not bein able to make it to the ‘meet the teachers night’ but it had been unavoidable. The head of the school assured him that he could stop by any time to have a chat, though even then he found it difficult to make time in his schedule, wanting to spend what he did have outside of bureaucracy. He got enough of his taste of schooling from his own job at UA.
It was that night as he was making dinner that Eri presented him with the assignment, eyes bright as she asked him for help on the assignment, repeating your words from early back to him.
”We can all be heroes in our own way, even if we’re not flying around saving people.”
Ah, the teacher. Someone he had heard so much about yet had not met. Kori had seemed a bit nervous when he asked about you, though nothing to raise any concerns. It seemed you were just a bit skittish around Alphas and Aizawa couldn’t say he blamed you, especially given some of the Alphas he had dealt with in his line of work. Still he hoped to meet you eventually. Maybe the next event that the school had planned for the children to have the crowd as a buffer, though that wouldn’t be until Christmas. In any case, he wasn’t too worried about it. You were more than computing at your job if Eri’s words were anything to go by, as well as this latest project he was now presented with.
So he sat down, helping Eri narrow down who she could talk to and sending a quick ask to one of the workers on the disaster relief construction crew he knew.
_______________________
”Would you mind staying late?” Shizu poked his head in the door, interrupting you as you finished packing your things for the day. In one hand he held his bag and the other was laced with Eri’s.
”Her pickup is running a bit late and I have a date I have to get to.” He explained.
”Of course!” You replied, even as a part of you sighed, tired from the day and wanting nothing more than to go home and sink into bed. But he had been talking about this all week and you knew he was excited. Took him long enough to actually ask for the date, and you and your other coworkers had heard his woes until collectively you hyped him up enough to approach.
He perked up the cloying scent of vanilla filling the room despite the scent blockers he wore, bidding a goodbye to Eri and giving you a quick bow before running back down the hall.
“I expect all the details on Monday though!” You called after him, laughing as you beckon the girl further in.
”How about we go wait outside, hm?” You ask, gathering your things. “That way you can tell me when you see them. Besides, it’s such a beautiful day it would be a shame to waste it.”
A beautiful day indeed. One of the rare last warm spells as winter crept closer, just enough to justify going out without a coat but a gamble on if to bring a sweatshirt or not. The majority of the class day had been spent outside collecting different leaves, classifying them and identifying which species they were. Maybe next week you could go more into the growth process and get some plants to have them grow to help liven the classroom up when winter finally rolls around.
“So are you excited for the weekend?” You ask Eri as she hops towards the swings. A favorite of hers, laughing as Cho would push her higher and higher despite your warnings. There had been no incidents yet but each time she lifted from the seat you could feel your anxiety go through the roof.
“Do you have anything fun planned?”
Her eyes sparkled as she climbed up, pink hoodie drawn back, the same pale color as her shoes. It wasn’t always that she came in coordinating clothing, the articles sometimes clashing so much that you had to wonder if whoever picked them out was colorblind. It was really a coin toss on what it would be but then again so we’re half of the others, now at the age where they insisted on picking out their clothes themselves even if it didn’t match.
“Yeah! Aizawa and I are going on a trip to the mountains!”
“Oh really? What are you doing there?”
She talks on about how some of his students will be there, along with some of her friends. You had long ago learned that Aizawa was the name of her guardian after a quick glance at her paperwork. He worked at UA as a teacher from what she had told you, so her hero obsession only made that much more sense. She speaks very highly of him, though you are in no rush to meet him. Not after seeing the Alpha designation after his name. That would be better handled by Shizu, even if you did feel a bit guilty about avoiding a parent.
“And when we get there Mirio will-“ she doesn’t get to finish her sentence, a startled chirp sending you on edge as her doll flies out of her hands at the height of the swing, too excited to remember to properly hold onto it. It soars in a perfect arc, landing on one of the low branches of the oak that sits a dozen feet away. She jumps off the swing to follow before you can stop her, standing at the base of the tree as she looks up with tears in her eyes.
“It’s okay!” You attempt to comfort her, wracking your brain for a solution. The janitor had already gone home by this point and you were the last two in the building, everyone eager to head out for the weekend. There wasn’t anything to poke it with that was long enough laying about and leaving it there for the weekend wasn’t an option either as Eri was becoming increasingly distressed even as your scent poured out to comfort her chirps of distress.
In a vain attempt to get it down you take off one of your shoes and toss it at the branch, only succeeding in getting it stuck as well and increasing the problem, though the sight seems to give Eri pause as you both stare up at the branch.
With quick steps you approach the tree, grabbing the lowest branch and hoisting yourself up with a huff. Maybe you should get to the gym more, but with all the running around you did with the kids all day it seemed hardly necessary. Besides, there were no Omega only gyms close to your apartment, the nearest one being a twenty minute train ride. It’s not like this was overtly strenuous anyways.
Precariously you balance on the branch while inching further out as it dips under your weight. The limb sways and you freeze, waiting for the movement to settle. Logic says you should go back and find a different solution but you’re so close. Just a little bit further and then-
A rush of success floods you as your fingers close around the worn fabric, victoriously holding it up to the girl on the ground who cheers. No sooner had you done so than you heard a sharp crack, barely a moment to process before you felt gravity take hold as you tumbled towards the ground with a yelp. The reminding length of the branch remains just out of reach, fingers skimming the bark as you fall.
You brace for impact mentally cursing all the while, determined not to make Eri worry too much about your inevitable injury-hopefully nothing broken from the eight foot fall- only to feel another body under yours as they catch you. For a brief moment you fear you’ve landed on Eri but the thought is swiftly banished as it’s far too large. You also doubt the plausibility of the child to be able to hold your weight as this person currently does even if they given a huff at the sudden weight.
You tilt your head, looking into the face of a man you’ve never seen before. Surely you would have remembered him. He’s handsome in a rugged way, the bags under his eyes and scruff along his jaw standing in contrast to his pale skin. The scent of crisp apples tickles your throat and while you first think it’s the plush it’s much stronger than it had ever been before, accompanied by a new undertone of clove that stings your nose, lighting every nerve in your body. It’s with a start that you realize it’s coming from the man currently holding you. It might be a bit more embarrassing if you didn’t notice the way he inhaled as well, taking in your scent in great gulps of air as his lips parted.
“Shota!” Eri’s call breaks the tense moment, prompting you into action.
“I’m so sorry!” You scramble to get down and he sets your feet on the ground, allowing for the chance to put a respectable distance between you. To get away from the overpowering scent that wraps around your mind. It’s not difficult to connect the dots with your student’s quick fondness when she normally shys away from those she doesn’t know. Swallowing your nerves as etiquette wins out over fear, you turn to address him instead of slipping away as quickly as possible like you want to.
“You must be Eri’s guardian. A pleasure to meet you.”
Not daring to extend a hand in fear of him seeing it tremble you give a small bow instead. Your mind flashes back to the designation listed next to his contact info stack beside all the others in the office, a swell of panic rising. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to an Alpha in recent memory, both the nerves and his scent making your mind a bit scattered and fuzzy. Hopefully landing on him didn’t anger him too much. What if he talked with your boss about it? You knew she wouldn’t fire you but the thought of the reprimand was enough to make you shrink.
He says nothing for a beat, staring back as he scans you from head to toe with an analytical gaze that makes you stand just a bit straighter. Despite his authority to command the situation he seems to take a considerate step back, scent lessening just a touch though it’s difficult to relax. He’s an Alpha after all. They’re dominant and standoffish even when not outright aggressive. One wrong step could be enough to set him off if he perceives an Omega as making the wrong move.
“And you must be her teacher.” He says while kneeling. “I’ve heard much about you.”
Upon standing he offers you your fallen shoe to which you take gratefully, careful not to brush fingers. A stray touch could be seen as offensive, especially if he was mates or courting. You’re saved from a response as Eri comes rushing up to you, brows pinched.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. No harm done.” You smile in an attempt to sooth her, the purrs you would normally use stuck in your throat like a sticky bite of oatmeal.
Her attention turns back to the man- Aizawa if you recall correctly- who kneels to speak his own reassurances as he hands back her plushy. Your eyes dart between him and the doll, taking in the similarities as a jolt of realization hits you.
“Eraserhead?”
Aizawa’s attention returns to you, realizing you had said it out loud.
“I’ve heard much about you as well. It seems Eri is quite the fan.”
And you had, both when she talked about him as a hero and just as Aizawa. It’s his turn to hesitate, a tinge of embarrassment turning his scent sweeter as his brows rise. Despite the unease that sits on your shoulders it eased just a bit at the sight of him kneeling before you besides Eri.
“Good things I hope.” His lips twitch into what you think is a smile, though it looks as if it takes some effort.
“Of course. Eri is your number one defender whenever heros come up in class. And with the students this year it’s quite often.”
You chance a laugh, cutting short when you notice the way his shoulders tense. An awkward silence falls between you, filled only with the souls of passing cars on the other side of the fence and the rustle of leaves as the light turns to golden hour.
“Now that you’re here I’ll be heading off. Many things to do tonight.” You finally manage, grabbing your bag from the ground. The doors to the building are all locked, leaving on the playground fence open which you make sure is secure after leading the way out.
“I apologize for being late. Things at work ran late and-“
“Don’t worry about it.” You interrupt, successfully locking the gate and depositing the key in your bag before you drop it. It had taken four tries to even get it in the lock. “Eri is a lovely student. I would never object to seeing her more.”
You turn to the girl, budding her a quick goodbye before heading home. While you do your best not to run a brisk walk still gets you away from the pair quickly, allowing you to get around the corner with record time before you collapse against the wall, leaning on it for support as you take deep breaths. The street isn’t too busy but there are still a few passerby that give an odd look, likely taken aback by the sight of an Omega in such a state, forcing you to pull yourself together before any feel the need to help. That would really be the cherry on top for the night.
———————————————
It wouldn’t be the last time you would see Aizawa. He often appeared to pick Eri up at the end of the day instead of a blond boy by the name of Mirio. Her babysitter and best friend, she told you in the same tone of reverence she spoke of Aizawa with.
There were far and few days where you were charged with pickup duty, though you found yourself volunteering a bit more often if just to talk a few moments with Aizawa. Finally addressing your fear of Alphas, you had told yourself. He wasn’t wild or abrasive, and despite the aura he exuded it was softened through the lense of which Eri perceived him and to what you were quickly adapting. It helped that his scent wasn’t overbearing as most Alphas were, light and even a bit sweet.
The Alpha didn’t seem to mind your presence either, now a staple at school functions and you would often find yourself chatting with him. Always in a group or with straggling students at the end of the day. There was a bake sale around Christmas time, and the last thing you had expected was him to show up with Eri, a box of brownies balanced in one hand while his other remained clasped around hers.
While Shizu was supposed to be the one helping out at the table Aizawa remained there most of the time, the silence between you filled with the chattering of Eri as she told you about their holiday plans-she was going sledding for the first time that weekend, nodding when you told her to e careful- and showing off her nails, freshly painted by the Alpha behind her with little snowflakes.
Soon enough she ran off to meet with a few of her classmates that had shown up, leaving you to stand behind the table in silence, unsure as what to say and desperately hoping that he couldn’t detect the anxiety in your scent despite the blocking jell you had lathed over your glands, hoping it was enough to avoid the attraction of any Alphas in the area. You learned things often went smoother if they perceived you as a Beta, or at least they seemed a bit less chatty and in your space.
It didn’t seem to be an issue now, the presence of Aizawa prompting them to quickly pay for their goodies and leave, the man fixing them with a glare that sent shivers down your spine whenever they lingered too long to chat. Out of the blue he offered a brownie, free of charge, and you swapped it with one of your own eggnog sugar cookies. He turned out to be a decently good baker, though he admired Eri did most of the work with him supervising.
”It’s the best way for them to learn.” You agreed.
”It’s difficult when you know they’re going to hurt themselves.” He sighed, reminding you that he was a teacher as well as a hero. His words seeemed to carry a bit more weight than he let on, and while you didn’t pay you could understand the sentiment. You could only tell someone so many time not to climb the slide the wrong way before they had to find out on their own why it wasn’t a good idea.
”Well, that’s why we’re here, right?” You asked, offering him a cup of coffee from the thermos stashed in your bag. You didn’t know how he took it but it seemed good enough as he accepted the cup, pointedly ignoring the way your hands trembled even with the warm gloves you wore.
”To help guide them and pick them up when they fall. Some a bit harder than others.” You admit with a small laugh in an attempt to break the tension. Your efforts were rewarded with a quirk at the corner of his mouth.
Conversation flowed a bit easier afterwards, falling into a smooth rhythm as you talked about lighter topics and your own recent struggles with students. The shake in your voice slowly faded, emboldened as you grew more enthusiastic to the topics. It was only when you saw Shizu glancing at you from where he was talking with one of the other parents that you realized how enthusiastic you had gotten, embarrassed. To be so loud in public, and with an Alpha no less! If you had told yourself that morning that this was how your day was going to go you would have laughed and called in sick. He just made it so easy to forget your designations, feeling more on equal footing then you ever had with anyone before.
Still, your parents' warnings lingered in the back of your mind, keeping you from opening up to him completely. He could be playing nice just for now until he got close enough to sink his claws in like the violent creature he was, waiting for the moment you let your guard down. You tried not to let it get to you-you were a professional after all-but you couldn’t help the way you hesitated whenever he was near. You don’t know if he noticed, but regardless he never seemed to push boundaries, keeping a respectful distance and wearing scent blockers more than once when you ran into him, the sharp medicinal tang somehow distinctive as you had almost gone nose blind to it on yourself.
You began to see him more, often dropping back into the classroom to grab one thing or another that Eri had forgotten or to ask about how she was doing in class. More than once he brought something along with him. Things Eri had seen and wanted to get for you apparently. A coffee mug to replace your old chipped one. A new scarf for winter after you had told the class of how it had blown away that morning with the intention of bringing a bit more joy to the grey day. You had worn it with great enthusiasm, even when the scent of apples and spice had faded from the fabric. A scent you found yourself gravitating towards more and more, the candles you often lit to help relax at night carrying the familiar notes. Just to help you feel a bit less blue with the current cold weather, you told yourself, even when it wasn’t orchards and blue skys you imagined.
Some of your coworkers teased you about it though most were glad to see you coming out of your shell more. You took it all in stride. It’s not like you were courting him after all. You found yourself a bit less fearful of going out, unconcerned with running into an Alpha and not immediately set on edge by their scent, though you never grew as comfortable around any as you did with Aizawa.
It was easy to talk with him, even to the point you worked up the courage to ask him to come give a talk to your hero-obsessed class. The students had been enamored, Eri still surrounded by students at the end of the day, their attention shifting from him to her when you encourage them to give him a moment to himself.
“She seems to be enjoying her time here.” He commented as he packed up some of the things he had brought, the stragglers all still talking excitedly while you waited for their parents. It was raining outside so they would have to come to the classroom to find their kids.
“Yes. I’m lucky to have her. She’s very bright and kind to others.” You think back to the first time you’d met her, shy and hiding, compared to the girl you saw now. A sense of pride welled in your chest.
“I wish I could have her next year as well.” Come next fall she would go on to a different school, aging out of the current center. While you loved all your students you had grown especially close with her and it was disheartening to think about not seeing her again.
Aizawa paused at your words, staring vacantly at the tool belt he was holding, mind far away in a way that allowed you to observe him. The bags under his eyes hadn’t lessened in the time you’d known him, the scent of coffee lingering in a way about him that might as well have been a part of his scent.
The moment is cut as his phone chimes, making you both jump as he digs it from his pocket. Busying yourself with papers you only look up when you smell his scent become just a touch burned.
“Is everything alright?”
“Mirio isn’t going to be able to pick Eri up tomorrow." He growls, scowling at his phone as he digs through his contacts. “It’ll be a pain finding someone else to bring her to UA on such short notice especially with exams going on.”
You hesitate, the words mulling in your head as you watch his brows pinch while he types into his phone. He’d done you a favor today by coming in, so it would be common courtesy to repay it in any way you could, right?
”I could bring her. If you’re alright with that, that is.” Taking deep breaths, you forced yourself to keep your head high as you met his gaze. He seemed a bit surprised, if not confused. You had admitted once before that you were much of one for going out, always eager to get home and relax.
“If you’re sure.” He says slowly, giving you a chance to back out. His normal monotone held a pitch of uncertainty. Something you weren’t used to seeing him display. He was always at ease, a nonchalance in the air around him as if he couldn’t be bothered. “I’ll let the people at the gate know you’ll be coming. They should know Eri well enough to let you through.”
When they finally leave that evening, Aizawa checking once more that you were alright with the plan, you collapsed at your desk, head in your hands. What had you just signed yourself up for? Your head tilts to the side, spotting a picture frame sitting on the edge of the desk amount some other small trinkets students had made for you over the years. The edges were decorated with stickers and glitter, the frame holding a picture of Aizawa in full hero garb that Eri had drawn for you. It wasn’t the only picture like it on your desk but it was your favorite even if you would never admit it out loud.
The next day Shizu seemed to notice a bit of extra pep in your step, unable to hide the nervousness of seeing Aizawa outside of a school function or the building itself. Well, you would still be in a school, but not this one. He was able eek the information from you when you had to decline going out with the others after work.
“Oh, so are you making it official?”
“Making what official?” You ask, reaching underneath a desk to grab a rouge crayon that had rolled under. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed under any feet and ground into the carpet. The janitor still hadn’t let you hear the end of it from the last time it happened.
“The courting? Honestly I’m a bit surprised given your fear of Alphas, but I can’t say he’s a bad choice.”
The table rocks as your head hits the bottom, yelping as Shizu rushes over. Rubbing at the area, you manage to glare as he smiles apologetically.
“We’re not courting.” You huff, getting up and heading to tour desk, grabbing the halfthawed ice pack from your lunchbox and pressing it to your skull. The last thing you need is to show up with a bump on your head. So much for first impressions.
“Sure seems like it.” He pointedly looks at your new mug.
“He’s just considerate.” You counter, feet shuffling in the slippers also gifted by the same person.
“He doesn’t strike me as the considerate type.” Shizu says. “He hardly talks to anyone at drop off and you’ve got him in your classroom half the time now, and he’s the only Alpha I’ve seen you not be jumpy around.”
You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you rub your eyes.
“If he were interested he would have asked.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for you to?”
What a laughable thing to ask. Alphas didn’t wait for things, hovering at the edges to be invited in. They made them happen. If they wanted to court someone they made their intentions clear. They took what they wanted with little regard for those around them. They were top of the food chain after all.
But Aizawa wasn’t like that. Sure, he was rough around the edges-or so you’d been told, not having experienced it yourself- but not bristling. Firm, but not unkind. Clam, cool, and efficient. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. Still, he always makes sure to get permission before entering the classroom. A room in which you ranked highest in the chain unlike everywhere else outside. And each time he arrived late he brought something as an apology. Nothing extravagant or attention drawing. Just simple things that added a bit more to your day, such as a snack you had offhandedly mentioned liking or a warm drink to carry on the way home.
You never complained even when it intruded on your own downtime in the evenings, a small part of you thrilled to see him.
The soft chime of ceramic rings through the class as your fingers tap against the surface, mixing with the approaching sounds of children as recess comes to an end.
“Just promise me one thing.” Shizu sighs, moving to open the door. “Don’t be scared to go for what you want.”
“I promise.”
He hesitates, as if trying to decide weather to believe you or not, before opening the door and letting the waiting students in. They clamor to their seats, still jittery with leftover energy from recess. Hands on things were always the way to go after lunch. Any attempt at writing or equations would be lost.
Your eyes drift to the mug again, still warm in memory more than temperature. And inconveniently, so is the thought of the man who gifted it.
——————————————
“-and that’s the gym where they all practice with their quirks!”
Eri pulled you along the paved walkway, easily navigating through the winding paths as if she knew them by heart. Maybe she did. All you knew was that after you had been let through the gates, a visitor pass clipped to the collar of your shirt, she had taken it upon herself to give you a tour. While you weren’t entirely sure you should just be walking around like this you didn’t have the heart to stop her. There wasn’t much harm in it, right? Aizawa had asked you to take her to the teacher’s lounge and wait for him there. It was still a half hour until your planned meeting time so walking around a bit until then should be fine.
The only thing was that you wished you’d earn something a bit warmer, the chilly breeze causing gooseflesh to erupt along your skin. A late cold front had hit the area as spring transitioned to summer, and while normally you’d have a jacket Eri was wearing it, worrying she may catch a cold. It didn’t help that you’d worn something a bit less practice than normal, wanting to make a good impression on any of Aizawa’s coworkers. Shizu had teased you about it, making you doubt the choice, but there was no time to go home and change.
“This is my favorite spot.” Eri pulled you to sit on a bench that overlooked a small courtyard with a fountain bubbling in the center. While a number of flowers lined neatly planted beds a few stubborn dandelions grew outside the bounds, not yet plucked by the groundskeeper.
There wasn’t a large rush to get to the office, and Eri seemed content where she was, kicking her feet as she watched a bee dance among the flowers.
“Are you courting anyone?” Her question catches you off guard, stunned as she looks up in question. Most children her age hadn’t developed the olfactory senses need to detect scents yet, normally kicking in around late middle school, and scenting was the only way to tell if someone was courting before a bond mark was put in place. Of course she wouldn’t be able to tell, but the question is odd regardless.
Trying not to appear too shocked, and not wanting hr to think she'd said something wrong, you gently ask what had brought the question about.
”I heard some of the adults talking about it.”
That made more sense. Maybe one of them was about to attempt courting and were bouncing ideas around. You found yourself doing some of the same with your own coworkers, often the go-to when anyone was interested in an Omega. But something about it still struck you as odd. Something in the phrasing and answer, itching under your skin until it finally clicked.
Had they been asking about you? It would be a bit posthumous to think it was you specifically. But still your stomach fluttered at the thought.
”Eri, who-“ the girl jumps from her seat with an excited shout, running past at the speed of acceleration only a kid can achieve. A moment later a familiar scent hits, twisting in your seat to see a familiar head of blond hair.
“Mirio!” Eri ran to the young hero, who scooped her up with just as much enthusiasm, spinning her about as she laughed. Maybe in your younger days you could have done the same, and in fact you did, but just watching now made your back hurt.
“I tried my best to get out of my exams early but they ended up dragging late.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “You didn’t walk here by yourself, did you?”
“No, Aizawa talked with my teacher who walked me here!” Setting her down, Mirio looked over to where you stood. One moment he was seven feet away and the next he was right in front of you, clasping your hands and shaking them with vigor.
“Thank you so much for bringing her safely!”
“Oh.” You stutter, trying not to cringe away at his scent as everything about him screamed alpha. From his physicality to demeanor, including the way the smell of mint and earth hit you full force. It was never too bad in the pickup line, even having a few decent conversations, but the scent blockers he normally wore were absent now.
‘Don’t be a coward. You know this kid.’
Still, it puts you on edge nonetheless, trying not to breathe through your nose as you take a step back. A voice is yelling for you to get away, to fall in with other Omegas and the safety of numbers, but it’s far more distant than it normally was. Easier to ignore as you grit your teeth and steady your breathing. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way your hand grip the strap of your bag. If he does, he’s polite enough not to mention it.
“It was no trouble at all. Aizawa just wanted me to make sure I got her to the teachers lounge and-”
“The teachers lounge!” Mirio perked up, attention jumping back over to Eri. “I’ll race you there! Last one is a rotten egg!”
He takes off, Eri quick behind him even as he shortens his strides to give her a chance to keep up. You attempt to follow, already lagging behind and lacking their energy, but quickly lose them in the winding halls of UA even as you call out for them to slow down. It seemed as if the place had been designed to get people lost, unsure of where to go as every white wall and classroom looked the same to you. From the looks of it the majority of students had finished their exams, the steady trickle that had first greeted you upon arriving at the school now abandoned. All eager to go celebrate after success or wallow in failure you assumed.
Being lost wasn’t your main worry. Being lost without Eri was the bigger issue. While you were sure Mirio was more than capable of taking care of her- he picked her up from dropoff half the time for after all- the thought of Aizawa finding her without you made you panic. Though you had never seen him so, the thought of incurring the Alpha’s anger was daunting. Would he think you irresponsible or even stupid? What if he made a call to the school and complained? What if he never wanted to see you again?
The last thought put an extra pep in your step, fast walk increasing to a jog as you called out for Eri.
So concerned with finding her, you’re completely unprepared when you turn the corner and run full force into another person. It’s like hitting a freshly cleaned glass door with full confidence, the result just the same as you bounce back. While they only seem surprised, you’re left falling, a chirp of distress escaping before it can be stopped. The impact is sharp as your tailbone hits the hard floor, tears sprinting up immediately.
“Are you alright?”
In an instant the person you bumped is kneeling next to you, brows furrowed. Despite the scent of Beta dripping off him- something akin to a mellow red wine, fruity yet bitter- his cutting figure was enough to give you pause. Even in the looser clothes he wore the hardened muscle of his body was evident, making him into a rather effective wall. No wonder he hadn’t budged an inch. You were more lucky you hadn’t broken your nose.
“I’m sorry.” The words are second nature, apologies slipping for even the smallest inconvenience to try and soothe the situation. “I was looking for someone and got lost.”
“No, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Normally I have a bit better head on my shoulders.” His gravely voice isn’t boisterous but rumbling as he offers you a hand up, which you cautiously accept. He doesn’t seem the least bit angry about running into him even if there’s a perpetual hardness to the set of his face. In fact he looks rather concerned, expression softening just a fraction as he noticed you wince.
“Who were you looking for?”
You hesitate, unsure on what to say. It’s not like he would be trouble given his position at UA, and in fact he’s likely a known coworker of Aizawa’s. An ID badge dangles at his side, the name ‘Sekijirō Kan’ stamped below his picture.
“I was supposed to bring Eri to the teachers lounge but Mirio showed up and they ran off so quickly I couldn’t keep up.”
“Mm, that sure sounds like him.” Though he remains a respectable distance away, you notice the way his chest expands as he takes a deep breath, almost perking up as he catches your own scent which has now surpassed the blockers. A combination of potency from stress and the late hour of the day. If you’d been thinking you’d have applied more before leaving the school, however Eri was excited to give a tour of UA which had led to rushing out the door.
It seems a lightbulb goes off in his head, head tilting as he assesses you anew.
“You must be her teacher.”
“Yes?” How did he know that? Has Aizawa been talking about you with his coworkers? It was more likely Eri had mentioned something when recounting her day to the others, no doubt her presence was not uncommon, but still the small possibility had your stomach fluttering.
“I’m sorry, but I really must find Eri. I promised Aizawa I would make sure she got there.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. From the sounds of it Mirio has taken her there already. If you’d like, I could show you the way to make sure.” He offers an arm, seeming to shrink in on himself just a bit to try and appear smaller, or likely less intimidating. The image is amusing enough for you to gather enough courage to accept, allowing him to lead you through the endless halls.
As you walk the anxiety of the encounter eases, especially as Sekijiro asks many questions.
He’s a teacher in the hero course just as Aizawa, though his feelings seem a bit mixed on the man. He doesn’t speak bad of him, even complicated on occasion, yet his words hold a tightness implying some tension. Not surprising considering the classes here are highly competitive from what you’d heard. It’s likely the teachers also held a level of animosity towards one another under the pressure for their students to perform well. While not overtly enthusiastic or overbearing, he seems keenly interested in your life, especially your opinion of Aizawa. It seemed your guide already had a good idea of who you were.
“Here we are.” He says as you stop, the door labeled with a plaque proudly stating it was the teacher’s lounge. You can hear voices coming from inside, muffled.
“Thank you. I-“
Before you can say anything else the door slams open, revealing Aizawa. His eyes flicker from you to Sekijiro, then to your still linked arms, narrowing as a low growl escapes. He was never the most expressive person, an air of nonchalance or mild indifference always seeming to follow, but the clear anger, even more than the annoyance you saw when others would intrude on your conversations, that pulled at his features was new to you. Behind him you could see the two runaways you’d been looking for.
“Aizawa!” You pull away, bowing your head so quickly the bones crackle in protest. “I’m so sorry! I got separated from Eri and got lost trying to find her.”
Swallowing thickly, the air was tinged with the scent of his displeasure and only intensifying the moment he saw you standing there with Sekijiro, serving to make you more nervous.
He was mad at you. Of course he would be. And now he likely thought you to be incompetent as well and-
“It’s alright.” Aizawa sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs, taking a carefully measured breath. His scent lessens just a bit, though still overpowering and screaming that he was the one in charge of this situation. “I know how they can be. Kids hardly ever listen.”
A large hand grasp your shoulder, straightening you back out.
“No harm done.” Sekijiro says, though his attention remains on the Alpha in front of him. “If you ever find yourself here again don’t hesitate to drop by my class. I would be glad to help keep you from getting lost.” His eyes crinkle in muted amusement as Aizawa growls, louder than last time and making you jump.
Normally it was a precursor to a fight and the last thing you wanted was to be in the middle of an Alpha and this giant man if they decided to get into it. Aizawa was smaller, lankier, but you’d watched the few videos of him that the press had managed to get online, having seen him take on opponents much larger and win. It would leave quite the mess, and Eri would be distressed.
Thankfully that’s not what happens, Aizawa stepping aside, pushing the larger man’s hand off your shoulder and replacing it with his own as he guides you inside.
“It was nice meeting you!” Sekijiro calls as the door is slammed once again, this time in his face and leaving you closed in the lounge.
Mirio and Eri shuffle away from the desk, already scattered with snack wrappers, having the decency to look embarrassed.
“Apologies. I got too excited and was careless. I should have been more thoughtful about my actions.” Mirio says, bowing deeply, rigid enough you could take a right angle to his posture as Aizawa glares. It seems the Alpha had given them a thorough dressing down, though you doubt it was very harsh considering how he seemed to dote on Eri the rest of the time. Likely Mirio had gotten the brunt of it for absconding with Eri as the older of the two.
The girl approaches, shy as the first time you’d meet, shoes scuffing the floor and unable to look you in the eye. Her fingers worry at the edge of your jacket, the sleeves rolled up to make better use of her hands.
“I’m sorry for running off.” Eri apologizes, looking a bit sheepish as she bows her head, Mirio mimicking the stance. It’s difficult to be upset when she seems so sincere, and there was no harm done in the end. It’s not like she’d run off with a stranger. In fact is was mirio that she knew better than you.
Crouching, you got to eye level and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, your heart squeezing at the way her eyes line with tears.
“It’s alright. I knew nothing would happen since you were Mirio, but you still made me worry.” You extend a pinky. “Just promise you won’t go running off from adults again, yeah?”
She quickly locks her finger around yours, sealing the promise and looking a bit more at ease.
“Mirio.” Aizawa cuts in. “Why don’t you take Eri to the dorms and she can see the others.”
The two didn’t need to be told twice, saying their quick goodbyes before slipping out the door and away from Aizawa’s foul mood. From exactly what you couldn’t tell, likely a combination of all the small incidents, but the lingering burnt tang of his scent was enough to put you on edge He’d never been so overtly on edge during all your previous interactions apart from the way he sometimes seemed a bit more closed off. Even then you would have called him more grumpy than angry.
His head hangs back, staring blankly at the ceiling in contemplation, hands rest on his hips. He’s dressed down from the last time you’ve seen him, not in his hero uniform. Instead a tight black shirt clings to him, arms mercifully covered by a grey jacket. Unlike Sekijiro he’s not bursting with muscle, but instead lithe like a cat with fluid movements to match.
“I apologize about them.” He gestures to the couch along the wall, prompting you to take a seat as he moves to a kettle sitting on the counter, refilling it as he rummages through the cabinet. The scent of your distress must still cling like a second skin, noticing the way his nose wrinkled despite your best efforts to temper it. Would it be rude to ask if they had any scent blockers for the ride home? Surely they would have a stock of them in the nurses office.
His own scent permeates the air, overpowering the lingering traces of others and making your head swim. It wasn’t even that strong in comparison to how Alphas normally projected their scents- a competition to see who could peacock the most- but the familiarity of it wrapped around your brain like a blanket on a cold night, calming your anxiety and loosening your common sense. Maybe if a window had been cracked open you would have thought better of your words.
“I knew Eri would be alright with Mirio. I was more worried that you would be mad.”
Aizawa stills, staring at you from over his shoulder, caught in the middle of pouring two cups of tea. The same kind you kept in the drawer of snacks at your desk if the smell was anything to go by.
His silence has you backtracking.
“I mean, not that you would be wrong to be mad, I did break my promise to get her here, but, uh.” You mumble, trying to dig yourself out of the hole but only going deeper.
“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s run off from an adult. Kids like to cause trouble.” He sighs, and you get the feeling he’s had plenty of experience with it. Where you work they get into things enough as is. It must be even worse in a school full of kids training to be heroes with a penchant to throw themselves into danger.
Moving back over, he sets one of the cups down in front of you before taking a seat. There’s plenty of other room on the couch but he instead opts to take the chair across from you, letting himself settle into the cushions with a sigh. Even from here you can here his knees crackle. The ever-present bags under his eyes seem heavier, as if they carry a real weight to them.
“I’m sorry.”
He waves your worries away, rubbing at his eyes.
“It’s fine. Honestly, I think it’s a bit good for Eri. Mirio is good at helping her be a bit less timid about things.”
“I meant about having you come in yesterday.” You clarify. “You’re very clearly tired and have a lot on your plate. It was selfish of me to ask in the first place.”
Aizawa pulls his hand away, brows drawn together- only deepening the perpetual wrinkle that resides there- as the scent of tea fills the space between you. Much more manageable than his own crisp scent.
“I would have come in any case. Don’t think it was a problem for me at all.” His mouth quirked in the corners, just a fraction. Anyone who didn’t know him might not have noticed, but with the increasing amount of time spent around the man you’d begun to pick up his quirks and mannerisms. “If anything it helped me relax.”
Relax? Around a bunch of overstimulating children? That was difficult to believe, and if he was just saying it to make you feel better it was in fact having the opposite effect, that much more guilty that he saw the need to soothe you about the subject.
“Still, you should push yourself so much. It’s important to get rest. I worry every time I see you so tired.”
Your voice is firm, as if talking to one of your students rather than a full grown man. An Alpha and pro hero no less, but concern overpowered any propriety towards designation or position. Maybe a mistake given the way Aizawa stares back, his gaze fixed in a way that makes you squirm in your seat. He may be tired, but the dark pools are no less piecing. Not intimidating, but consuming all the same in a way that you would gladly let yourself get lost in. And have, on more than one occasion.
”There's some construction going on near my apartment.” He finally says. “Makes it harder to sleep on my days off. The scaffolding has the wind whistling twice as loud at night.”
”Tell me about it.” You goan. Spring time was the start of construction season, everyone racing to get things done before winter hit and complete projects that had been waiting all through the freeze. Your own complex had decided to do some work on the elevator now that the snow had melted away and they could crack it open from the top, leaving you to climb six floors to your door. Not the worst that it could be but still a pain after a long day of running around and wanting nothing more than to relax.
Conversation from there progressed easily, as it always did with the Alpha who seemed to find the most mundane things fascinating. Maybe it was the fact that his own life was so full of excitement that the troubles of your painfully average and boring life entertained him. He never interrupted or complained, only commenting or making noises to show his agreement (moving your plants inside for fear that the sudden freeze may kill them and force you to start the beginning of your summer plot again) or disapproval (jumping the turnstile when your train pass wasn’t working and you didn’t want to be late getting to the school).
He listened, eyes half lidded as you spoke. Each time you apologized for talking so much he only waved it off, asking you to continue. Occasionally he would give his own story to go along with whatever you had said. Nobody had ever accused you of being overly chatty before- in fact you had the opposite issue of being too reserved with others due- but it was hard to stop around Aizawa, everything about him drawing you in despite others claims that his very presence was a ward.
The chirping notification of your phone lights the screen, displaying a reminder to pick up groceries tomorrow as well as displaying the late hour. With the gradual shift of the sun to remain just a little longer each day the sense of what was late and what wasn’t was harder to tell. With the amount of light left it could still have been four p.m. during the winter, but now the screen told a time of seven. Time had slipped away more quickly than you’d realized. Something that seemed to frequently happen around Aizawa, even as he dozed next to you, eyes half lidded. He didn’t seem concerned by the late hour and had yet to imply you should leave, yet you took it upon yourself to gather your things.
“I should be going before the train station. I would hate to take up any more of your time.”
Aizawa nods, following as you stand. It would be a losing battle to try and convince him you’d be fine, you already know, so instead you enjoy the lingering time together, walking through the halls just close enough that your arms would occasionally brush. He seems more at ease now than he was earlier, movements more relaxed and shoulders not quite as hunched.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but still held an unspoken tension. The chatter from before now feels far too intimate to be so loud about in public, giving others the wrong impression of your relationship. Occasionally one person or another would pass by, normally students. Their curious eyes quickly shifted away, though you could hear the occasional whisper. It likely reflected in a different way to see you walking together so late in the day, your face an unfamiliar sight. Hopefully no rumors would be spread about the situation, but you had been in high school before and knew better than to hope too much.
Stepping outside, the chill of the day has only dropped more. You shiver, already dreading the trek to the train station then home. At least if you got sick there would be the weekend to recover and not pass it to any of the children. The place was already a breeding ground for germs no matter how many times you wiped everything down and there was already a wave of the flu making its way through the school.
Rubbing your arms, you turn to say goodbye only to jump as Aizawa’s arms wrap around your shoulders. For a moment you think he’s giving you a hug, but notice the absence of his jacket now draped over your shoulders.
“Ah, I’m really fine. I let Eri borrow mine so you can just send it with her on Monday.” You assure him, moving to take the garment off. He won’t have it, batting your hands away and securing the garment firmly on your shoulders. It’s made of a luxurious soft material, or likely gotten to that point from regular wear. It’s difficult to tell which as it still seems to be in relatively good condition. Not that you would have minded if it bore a few loose threads and holes in the fabric. Not when it was warm and smelled so much like him.
“You’ll get cold.” Is all he says, even as gooseflesh erupts across his own pale skin. The muscle underneath flexes, your mouth going dry at the movement. “And in any case it’ll keep anyone looking for trouble away.”
He was worried about your safety. A lone Omega traveling at night with the lingering smell of fear would be enough to draw attention in any case. The jacket was enough to cover up most of it unless someone got too close for comfort, strengthened by the way he ran his wrist over the sleeves to refresh the scent until you were almost sure you’d be mistaken for an Alpha yourself.
“Aizawa.” You hesitate, fearing the words will destroy whatever thing between you there was. Something you enjoyed and didn't want to let go of. But you needed to know. “Are you trying to court me?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, his hands fixing the collar of the jacket to bring it up further around your neck before his eyes flicker to yours. The normal dark circles under them remain, yet an energy still seems to burn within. Apprehensive almost.
“Do you want me to?”
The air escapes your lungs, unable to find the words to properly respond.
“I know you’re not a fan of Alphas. That much is clear just by watching.” Ah, so he had noticed despite your best efforts. It wasn’t a big secret among those who knew you, but most others just considered it to be your shy Omega nature. “I can’t say I blame you. In a society that puts emphasis on power and strength, people are more willing to turn a blind eye to the actions that result from its overuse. It would be smart of you not to put yourself in danger.”
You pull the jacket around you closer, the soft lining reflecting your own burning heat back, shrinking into the garment as if it were a shell. It takes a considerable amount of effort to keep from scurrying away, accepting his opportunity for rejection.
“My parents warned me to stay away from Alphas. They always said they were prone to violence and trouble, and I can’t say I’ve had too many experiences to contradict that.” Aizawa sighs. A deep sound of acceptance, like the decision is already made. It’s his turn to be surprised as you grab his hand, clasping it between your own.
“But you’ve proven that things aren’t always what they seem. I tell my students all the time they shouldn’t judge someone before they know them, yet I don’t put my own words into practice.”
You swallow, trying to keep your voice even despite the way your legs shook, knees weak from just a glance from him.
“Will you help me set an example? To not let my own fear get in the way of happiness?”
Aizawa is silent, and for one terrifying moment you think he may reject you. The confession wasn’t the most graceful and you had practically admitted you held a bias towards him at the start. But when you go to pull away his grip tightens, sending tingles through your fingers as his hand grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him.
His eyes are sharp in the dim light, tired but unwavering as they search your face for any hint of uncertainty. You can feel the warmth of his palm even through the rough calluses along his fingers, the contrast strangely grounding.
The tension in your chest loosens slightly, though your pulse still stumbles when he leans closer.
"I know you don't like Alphas. Everyone who knows you that I've talked to has told me so." His thumb brushes once against your jaw before he exhales through his nose. "I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable, yet I couldn't stay away. Of any Alpha, I'm the worst."
Your breathing stutters as he leans in closer, stoping just short and leaving mere inches between you.
"You don’t have to force yourself past your fear for my sake." he interrupts quietly. “I know what I am. I know what people think Alphas are capable of., and they're not wrong.” His words hold no scorn, only a reluctant admittance of silent truth. Even shame, which has your stomach turning for a different reason, unable to think of him the way he says. At first maybe, but not now. Not your Aizawa.
“You make me feel safe.” The tremble of your hands and butterflies in your stomach when he got near wasn't because of fear. Quite the opposite, your body aching to be near him instead of getting as far away as possible. To have his scent and arms wrapped around you so tightly it was like you meld into one person.
Carefully you lean forward, placing a soft, hesitant kiss on his lips, waiting for the moment he pulls back and scolds you, telling you that you had gotten all the wrong messages and he wasn't interested. Except that never comes. Instead, he simply leans in further, deepening the kiss as a low rumble escapes him. Not of displeasure, but instead a thrumming content.
You could have stood there for hours kissing him, and you had all the intention of doing so, until he pulls away.
"Can I walk you home?" He asks, forehead resting against your own as he pants, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide. His shoulders heave as he swallows.
"Of course." You whisper, steeling one more kiss before threading your arm through his, unable to stop the smile that hurt your cheeks. "You have to get your jacket back somehow."
"Keep it." He says, posture back to the relaxed slouch you knew him by as his eyes linger on the fabric. "It looks much better on you. And besides," He leans down, lips brushing your ear. "You can keep it for your nest."
His words have your skin heating, ducking in embarrassment as you walk. To anyone looking on they would think you a perfectly happy couple, and they wouldn't be wrong.
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Y/n up in their room, while their dad and his best friend playing poker down stairs. Y/n sending many messages, begging for him to come up stairs.
Ding after ding Dean's phone went off. "Who keeps texting you?" Y/n's dad questions, when Dean looked up from the texts.
"Ah, I met someone. She wants me to come see her." Dean answered, it wasn't a lie technically.
"Really? You met someone, one that actually likes you?" He joked, placing a card down.
"Yes I did. Is that so hard to believe?" He asked, looking up from his cards.
Y/n's dad laughs, "no not really, but do you think this one is the one? You haven't had a proper relationship since high school, just hook ups. Look at me, married to my high school sweetheart, with a twenty year old kid."
"Yeah yeah, I know. I really hope their is the one. I really like them." Dean answered, except the same kid his best friend was talking about was the one blowing his phone up.
"Seems like they really want to see you. You can go if you need too." He takes a swig of his beer.
"Really? Cause we haven't finished our game."
"This is like our fifth game. It's fine. Your partner seems to want you more than I do." He chuckled.
"Fuck you." Dean flips him off, while taking the last few sips of his beer and standing up. He threw his cards down and crushed his can. "I was probably gonna lose anyway." He throws the can into the trash, before grabbing his things. "I gotta piss before I leave though."
"Ah, shit, the wife's in the shower downstairs, you'll have to use the one upstairs. The one by y/n's room."
"Alright." Dean walks over towards the stairs and up them. Seeing y/n's door slightly opened, he looked in and saw them laying on their bed. He opened the door quietly and closed it behind him.
"So you've been wanting to see me?" Dean crossed his arms.
Y/n shot up, looking at him, a smile on their face. "I didn't think you would come."
"Can't leave my good girl/boy desperately waiting now can I?" He uncrossed his arms, walking towards them. He leaned down, his hands finding their neck, pulling them close. His lips ghosted over theirs, his beard tickling their chin. "Say please."
"Please." They respond, with that single word, Dean wasted no time, capturing their lips into his lips. His hands, made their way down to their waist. As the kiss heated up, Dean found himself on top of y/n, their hands tangled in his hair.
He nipped their bottom lip which caused them to gasp softly and Dean slipped his tongue into their mouth. The deeply heated kiss muffled their whimpers and soft moans.
Dean, as much as he didn't want to, pulled away first. His forehead is leaning on y/n's as they took deep breaths. "I gotta go, baby." Before they could protest, Dean stopped them. "Ah- don't complain, you brat. You're lucky I even came up here." He pecked their lips and stood up. He fixed his hair and outfit so he could go back down like nothing happened. "I'll see you later okay?" He kissed their forehead before leaving.
Making his way down the stairs, y/n's dad sat on the couch, watching a random baseball game. "You good?"
"Yeah, just said hey to y/n before I headed out." He told him.
"I'm surprised you even got a word out of them, they've been glued to their phone ever since they found a boyfriend." He stated, taking a swig of his beer.
"you know how kids are. Always spontaneous and always glued to their phone." Dean shrugged, knowing that when he was around y/n it was the complete opposite.
Y/n's father chuckled, "You're right, but I'll see you later."
"See you later." With that Dean left the house only to receive another text from Y/n.
Y/n : miss you already ❤️🩹
Dean scoffed but he face already had a smirk forming,
ㅤꨄ︎ Summary: Your father's best friend, who realises how bad you are struggling. So he decides to comfort you, which includes crawling through your window every nigth, so you don't have to sleep alone.
ㅤꨄ︎ Genre / AU / Trope: fluff, non-hunter!Dean, DBF!Dean, maybe a little angst?
ㅤꨄ︎ Word count: 1.3k words
ㅤꨄ︎ Warnings: Mentioning mental health, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable! Let me know if you find any warnings.
ㅤꨄ︎ A|N: I saw this idea on TikTok, which was posted by @dean.1967_. So i decided to do my fellow girlies a favor, and make the idea happen. I apologise for any grammar mistakes, as English is not my first language. But i promise to do my best! Enjoy, and let me know what you think of it! :)
The sun had long settled beyond the horizon, painting the city in dark shadows as only the moonlight illuminated the outside world. You had long since found yourself in your bed, since you hadn’t really found any reason to move around the house. The last few days seemed to become longer and longer, while also starting to demand more from you. Which resulted in you being even more exhausted than the previous day. Not that anyone had noticed, or that you let anyone notice. Your father was busy working at the company, while your mother was out doing God-knows-what. Not even your friends had noticed your declining levels of energy, while the thought of going out with friends started to weigh heavier on your mind. A few months ago, you would have loved to go out with them. Going to whatever places they had found, whether it was a bar or a restaurant. Now it felt more like a chore than something you wanted to do. You were about to go back to scrolling on your phone when the knock at your window stopped you. Without much hesitation, you move over to the window before sliding it open. As the glass moves, you’re face-to-face with Dean. His brown hair moved a little as a gust of wind blew by. His deep green eyes find yours in the darkness of the night, holding the same warmth as they always had.
Dean had noticed the change. His green eyes seemed to find your figure more often. He has been your dad’s best friend practically forever, and he has known you for as long as you could remember. At first, it was little things he noticed, like how your steps seemed heavier, how the dark circles under your eyes grew darker day by day while the concealer you used failed to hide it or how you started to spend more time in your room. After subtly paying more attention to you for about a week - and seeing everyone else fail to notice – he decided to act. What started as him subtly checking how you were doing evolved into him climbing through your window every night, so you didn’t have to sleep alone.
“You’re alright, Sweetheart?” He says as he climbs through the window, being careful not to bump into you while you step aside to give him more space. You simply offer a soft, almost convincing, nod as you lean over and close the window shut behind him. The silence and quiet of the night seeping into the room as Dean doesn’t immediately reply. It’s not an uncomfortable silence; it’s a familiar one. One that doesn’t need words to fill it. Without saying much Dean looks past you and over to your bed, where the sheets are tangled and messed up from you lying in bed all day. The sheets are the same as the last few days, but Dean doesn’t comment on it as he knows how tired you have been. Instead, he carefully places his hands on your waist as he gently started to guide you back towards your bed. Once there, he lets you lay down before settling down beside you.
You don’t immediately look up to meet his eyes, instead you turn and rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His calloused hand comes up and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, almost instinctively. Like a habit that has been formed from the past few weeks of him visiting you. The silence continues to stretch for a moment as it’s just the two of you in silence. The weight of the day slowly creeps up on you, making your eyes water a little. Dean notices – he always does – and gently brings the hand that was running through your hair down to your chin. When his hand meets your chin, he carefully lifts your chin till you’re looking at him.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart” He murmurs quietly, which almost seems loud in the quietness of the night. His thumb slowly caresses your cheek as his green eyes study your face, running across every single feature that he loves.
“I don’t know how to explain it, Dean” You say, voice barely above a whisper, as you let a single tear fall. The tear doesn’t get to travel far down the curve of your cheek as Dean’s thumb carefully wipes it away. “You don’t have to explain it if you don’t have the words for it” Dean replies as he lets go of your chin, hand returning to run through your hair. His fingertips running along your scalp as the silence returns. More lights turn off outside as people find their beds and easily fall asleep. Something that could seem impossible to you at times. A few beats of silence pass by as you swallow the need to apologize for taking up his nights. Thoughts you had suppressed and ignored, return and slowly take over your mind like a plague takes over the body. Dean feels how the tension slowly spreads through your body as the silence subtly changes the way it does when one person tries to be less of a burden than they feel.
“Just try to relax for now, love. That’s enough for me” he says, trying to ease the tension in your body, while you feel it move around like a shadow without a name.
“I’m sorry” You whisper before you can stop the words from leaving your lips.
Dean’s face pulls into a soft frown as he turns his face to look down at where you’re resting on his chest. “For what?”
“I don’t know” You reply, quietly, as you close your eyes like it would solve everything. Like it could stop it all from happening. That was the worst part. You didn’t know why you were apologizing. You just knew that needing someone felt like something you should apologize for.
Dean doesn’t reply, but his lips purse for a moment as his eyes stay on your face, like looking at your face long enough could give him all the answers he wanted. All the answers he needed to help. “Be honest with me, sweetheart. Are you truly okay or are you just pretending, so no one questions it?” Involuntarily your body turns to ice, stopping you from moving. Any words you wanted to say, dying on your lips like your own thoughts gripped your neck while pressing an index finger to your lips. The silence only lasts for a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime, before Dean adjusts his position to hold you closer to him, his body and his warmth.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with me, Sweetheart. You’re allowed to have bad days” He whispers as his warm lips brush the skin of your forehead before settling into a soft kiss, almost like a promise. A promise you didn’t feel like you deserved, but one that felt like the only light in an endless tunnel of pure black. But slowly you let yourself relax a little, the thoughts being pushed a little back as Dean’s hand runs up and down your spine.
The rest of the night was quiet, except for the occasional movements from them both as Dean filled the quiet with whispers of memories and occasional forehead kisses that felt like promises, while letting sleep slowly fall over you. Around 2am, Dean felt your body relax fully as you finally fell truly asleep. He just quietly places a kiss on your temple, before leaning his head back and closing his eyes with an exhale. And so, the rest of the night went by silently, only broken by the occasional exhales of someone who had spent too long struggling alone, and the quiet presence of someone who refused to let her do it alone.
Hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated :)
Ryland Grace with a girlfriend who... Always touches his muscles.
pairings: ryland grace x reader
a/n: I just wrote this cuz I was feeling crazy for him I'm sorry💔
🌷
One night, Ryland's chopping some vegetables on the counter top with his back facing you. The shirt he was wearing was practically like a second skin.
The outrageously tiny shirt on him stretched against his broad shoulders as the creases on it moved while he chopped what looked like spring onions.
He glances behind his shoulder when he hears you, glasses almost running off his nose as always. He simply greets you with a hey and turns back to his work. He was deep in concentration.
"Good day?"
You moved right behind him, and trailed your hands on his back to his shoulder, as it tempted you the entire time. "It was good." You murmured, sneakily reaching your other hand to his left arm.
"I know what you're doing." He says with a thin lipped smile, chopping the spring onions slower this time. Almost as if he's inviting you to grab hold of his arm.
"Do what? This?" You grinned as you squeezed his bicep once. Then twice immediately after.
"You always do that." He doesn't look at you as he continues his slow work. As long as you're here gripping his arm, he won't work faster to let you keep hold on him.
"What'cha cooking?" You smile mischievously as you squeeze his biceps up and down. Not even interested at the vegetables he's cutting.
"Stop." He laughs and scolds as you press slightly harder, feeling the muscles up.
You rest your forehead on his back and moved to pepper kisses on the very bicep you've been feeling up.
"But you look so handsome." You pout and rest your chin on his shoulder, tip toeing as you do so.
He turns to look at you on his shoulder and stops chopping. "And delicious—" You continued before he scoffs with a smile, completely done with you. "You could feel me all you want when I'm done here, alright?" He swipes his tongue on his lips once, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes. I will." You bit your lip to contain your smile, then gave him one sloppy kiss on his cheek before leaving.
summary: the four times Ryland’s students questioned his relationship with you, and the one time they got an answer
word count: 2.7k
warnings/tags: your students play matchmaker and love gossiping, ryland owns a car here, pureee fluff
The first time was what initially caught his students’ attention.
Teenagers, albeit being annoyingly nosy, were also incredibly perceptive. And unfortunately for Ryland, about ten heads snapped up in his direction as he emerged from your classroom five minutes before lunch was going to end.
He held the door open, his body halfway out the threshold, yet still thoroughly engrossed in whatever conversation he was having with you. Even from thirty feet away, his students could see as clear as day that he did not want to leave.
And then, you appeared at the door. You playfully shooed him out, lips turning upwards into a smile, making some witty comment that the kids were too far away to hear. He said something in response, eliciting a small laugh from you as you took yet another step closer, nearly toe to toe with him.
Now, even more kids had their full, undivided attention on you, closely monitoring your little interaction while their food went cold. To them, getting to witness their teachers’ love lives unfurl was infinitely better than eating a stale peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
The most peculiar thing was Ryland’s reaction to your close proximity. His students watched in amazement as their favorite clumsy, shy, nerdy science teacher who often tripped over his own two feet seemed entirely unaffected by the fact that you were a few inches away from his face. In fact, he might have leaned in.
Olivia rubbed her eyes and squinted, not even trying to disguise her blatant staring at this point. Before she could check again, Ryland was already speed walking back to his classroom, no doubt hustling to prepare the science lab he had planned for today before the flood of kids came back from lunch.
She turned back to her classmates, many of which were still watching his retreating figure. Others had their eyes trained on your classroom door, lost in thought.
She started the conversation everyone was itching to have. “So, we all saw that, right?”
A chorus of agreement echoed amongst the small crowd, quickly devolving into hushed gossip and frantic whispers.
“Is it just me, or did Mr. Grace have a little more pep in his step just now?”
“Oh totally— and he definitely didn’t want to leave her classroom.”
“What about her? Did you guys see the smile she gave him?”
“What about the smile he gave her?”
Before the debate could continue, the bell rang, forcing the chatty kids to trudge back to their classes in unanimous disappointment at their conversation getting interrupted. Unbeknownst to you or Ryland, this was only the first of many times this hot topic would be brought up amongst your prying students.
— - — - —
The second time was during a school assembly.
Students and faculty alike were gathered in the multi-purpose room, with the kids sitting to face the stage and the teachers lining the walls of the large room. The principal, an abysmally monotonous man, continued to drone on about rules, regulations, and upcoming events, much to everyone’s disappointment.
Your kids were supposed to be paying attention, but a large number of them had their heads twisted in awkward positions, trying to sneak a glimpse of you and Ryland.
The two of you were standing in the back with less than a foot of distance separating you. Periodically, Ryland would lean down to whisper in your ear, making you giggle at his words. In turn, you’d reach up on your tiptoes to whisper something in response, and he’d nod with a soft smile.
A few teachers nearby shot you looks of disapproval for being disruptive, and you mouthed a quick apology to your peers. Not thirty seconds later though, your head was inadvertently turning back to Ryland, and he did the exact same.
Despite being told off not a minute earlier, the two of you continued to talk in hushed voices, trying to be even more discreet than before. Honestly, you guys might’ve been worse than the children.
James, a particularly rowdy student in Ryland’s class, turned to Sarah, who could easily match Olivia’s smarts in your English class. Both of their watchful eyes never left the two of you at the back of the room. He murmured to her, “I get it’s cramped, but they definitely don’t need to be standing that close.”
“Agreed,” she muttered back.
Olivia wasn’t far, and decided to join in on the conversation. “Mr. Grace is totally blushing every time she reaches up to whisper in his ear.” She had no qualms about exposing her science teacher, which made James and Sarah unexpectedly laugh.
Before they could get out another word, the meanest, crankiest teacher to ever curse Grover Cleveland Middle School with her presence snapped her head towards them, shushing them ten times louder than they were speaking.
“If you three don’t stop talking, it’ll be detention for a week,” she snarled, beady eyes watching them like a hawk.
Regretfully, they clamped their mouths shut, but the three of them, along with everyone else that had been watching you and Ryland, were all thinking the same: you two seemed awfully close, both physically and socially.
— - — - —
The third time took place after school, during the murky month of December.
The San Francisco weather decided to attack the school with an onslaught of rain, making it almost impossible to walk in the open without getting assaulted by vicious pellets of water.
A cluster of students huddled inside the safety of the school building, waiting for their parents to roll up to the front of the campus so they wouldn’t get completely drenched on their way to the car.
Olivia, while looking through the window at the dismal conditions outside, noticed you standing under an overhang alone. You had your coat drawn tight around you, trying to keep the frigid air out and your body heat in, and your eyes periodically wandered to the screen of your phone, like you were waiting for someone. Perhaps someone was coming to pick you up?
Before she could continue that thought, a familiar teacher’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
“Hey kiddos,” Ryland waved to the small group as he approached. “Waiting for parents?”
He was met with a series of nods, making him crack a smile. “Alright, make sure you all get home safe, yeah?”
“Yes, Mr. Grace,” some students said in unison.
Ryland chuckled and continued towards the door, raising his hand as a silent goodbye. With his other hand, he carried an umbrella, well prepared for the harsh rain.
Most of her peers looked away as Ryland pushed the door open, but Olivia kept her eyes trained on her teacher. As soon as he stepped outside, he made a beeline for you, already starting to open the umbrella.
He must have called out your name, because you turned to greet him, perking up with a warm smile. An easy conversation flowed between the two of you as he made his way over, but the next part made Olivia’s jaw drop.
Like clockwork, the two of you set off towards the parking lot, sharing the umbrella without missing a beat of your conversation. Ryland’s larger frame made you seem small in comparison, and he was mindful to keep the umbrella lower and slightly more on your side, ensuring you were fully protected from the rain. His left shoulder, on the other hand, started to get slightly wet, but he seemed to pay no mind as he listened to you talk with a genuine smile.
“Guys. Guys!! Look!” was all Olivia managed to say before a horde of students rushed to the window, trying to get a better view of their favorite teachers recreating this classic romance trope.
“Move, I can’t see ‘em!”
“Hey you’re shoving me!”
Then, a collective hush fell over the group, and Olivia craned her head around her peers to get a glimpse at what they were staring at. A small gasp escaped her too.
It was difficult to see due to the far distance and the reduced visibility in the rain, but it was unmistakable. There was Ryland, covering you with the umbrella as you got into the passenger seat of a car. After closing the door behind you, the science teacher walked around the front of the car, got into the driver’s seat, and slowly reversed out of the parking spot.
He wasn’t just walking you to your car. He was driving you home.
The silence lasted a moment longer before the group erupted into excited chatter, each kid trying to talk over the other.
“What the hell was that??”
“He offered her a ride home, obviously! It’s raining hard, so he’s being a gentleman!”
“They seemed so comfortable with each other though, what’s that about?”
“What if they’re dating?”
That last question caught everyone’s attention. Sure, it had definitely crossed everyone’s minds, but most brushed it off. It seemed unfathomable. Could their beloved, klutz of a science teacher really pull someone as gorgeous as you?
“No no,” someone finally cut in. “Mr. Grace wouldn’t have the guts to ask her out in the first place.”
“Yeah,” another chimed in. “Maybe he’s just crushing on her!”
A chorus of awww’s resounded throughout the room, and the debate of your relationship status was momentarily settled.
— - — - —
The fourth time shattered all of their conspiracy theories of Mr. Grace merely pining over their English teacher, because it was clearly something more.
It was finally that time of the year— prom. Most kids stood in clusters with their friends, while other, braver souls worked up the nerve to ask their crush to dance. The low lighting provided a moody atmosphere despite the upbeat party music, and compliments were constantly getting thrown around over dresses, shoes, and hair-dos. A typical middle school dance.
Of course, all school events required supervision, so you and Ryland volunteered to chaperone this year. You guys were standing in the back of the room, looking like you were engaged in normal conversation. You in a modest black dress, Ryland in a simple dress shirt and tie.
What you didn’t know though, were the dozen or so pairs of eyes locked onto your figures from the opposite wall, hidden in shadow and whispering furiously.
“Dude, look at the way he stares at her!”
“He’s so in love.”
“Quit staring so hard, they’ll notice you.”
Meanwhile, you and Ryland were casually chatting away, completely oblivious to your students’ antics.
You sucked in a breath, a little hesitant to bring up something that’s been gnawing away at your mind for the past few months. Ryland, as always, immediately noticed. “What is it?” he asked.
“Oh, I dunno,” you sighed.
He gave you an expectant look, silently questioning if you really thought he wouldn’t notice something’s been bothering you. It was true— no one could read you as easily as Ryland.
“Fine fine,” you smiled, “it’s just… have you noticed our kids acting a little, um,”
“Weird?” he finished with a knowing look.
“Exactly. Recently, if we’ve been talking, I’ll turn away from our conversation and find a handful of students staring at me from across campus. It’s unsettling.” You shuddered just thinking about it.
“I get it,” Ryland agreed while surveying the area. His eyes met the small group of kids that had been staring at you guys, all of whom were now looking at the ceiling, the ground, each other— anywhere other than in your direction. It was painfully obvious. You shared a look with Ryland, both of you shaking your heads before bursting into laughter.
Suddenly, a slow song came on, and you turned to Ryland with a soft smile. He was quick to offer his hand, which you accepted with a mock curtsy. In your little corner, the two of you swayed to the soft melody, lost in your own little world. All that mattered in the moment was the feeling of each other’s arms and the warmth of your shared love.
As you let the rhythm wash over you, you turned to Ryland, voice barely above a whisper. “You think they’re watching?”
“Oh I know they’re watching,” he huffed.
You let out a small giggle, amused by how involved your students were in your relationship. Brushing off the thought, you decided to just let teenagers be teenagers, instead focusing your attention on the way Ryland’s strong hands held your own.
And your students on the other side of the room? They were going ballistic while watching you.
“So he really pulled her? They’re dating?!”
“This is insane.”
“Someone needs to document this.”
“Why are they so cute??”
— - — - —
The school year was finally coming to a close, and everyone agreed they simply couldn’t leave the case of you and Mr. Grace unsettled. After much deliberation amongst the class, they all came to the consensus that today was the day. They were going to get answers out of you guys, whether you liked it or not.
They went to great lengths to corner the two of you. Olivia planted a note in your class, trying her best to mimic Mr. Grace’s handwriting: Meet me in my class after school.
You didn’t think much of the forged note. Ryland often slipped you random things, so you folded it up and tucked the parchment away, packing up to head over to his class like you often did.
In Ryland’s classroom on the other hand, he was wrapping up a lecture on cell anatomy just as the final bell rang. He clapped once, starting to erase the whiteboard. “Alright kiddos, we’ll finish this up tomorro—”
As he turned around, he was more than a little stunned to see his entire class still seated, desks cleared and their full attention bouncing between him and the door.
“Oookay, what’s going on,” he said slowly, trying to follow their gaze. “Did I imagine the bell ringing, or..?”
And then, when you walked in, it all clicked for Ryland. He turned to his students, gaze sweeping over their smug smiles and looks of anticipation.
You gave a little knock to signal your entry, “Hey Ry, you wanted to see...” you trailed off, noticing about thirty kids staring at you when you entered. You slowly made your way to his side, watching the class with a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. “What’ve we got here?”
“This is a set up,” he sighed. Not a question, but an observation. He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head, unsure of whether to smile or frown, so he opted for shaking his head in disbelief.
As the designated question asker, Olivia raised her hand, and Ryland nodded in confirmation for her to speak. “When did you start dating?”
They expected flustered denial, a poor cover up story, or for you guys to dodge the question completely. But to everyone’s shock, you and Ryland turned to each other simultaneously… and started laughing.
“Wh— What’s so funny?” James asked.
“Yeah, haven't you been trying to hide it this whole year?” another chimed in.
You waved your arms dismissively, shoulders still shaking with laughter. “Well, not exactly.”
Ryland just pinched the bridge of his nose, still in disbelief that his students thought you were dating.
“So, what’s your relationship then?” Olivia asked. Everyone leaned in, awaiting your response.
With a sly smile, you glanced at Ryland, then looked over the group of teens practically about to fall out of their seats in anticipation. “Well,” you started. “Let’s just say… I use my maiden name while teaching.”
Olivia let out a huge gasp, and the others whipped their heads toward her, clearly still confused.
“What?”
“Olivia, what’s that mean?”
Kids were clambering to get her attention, but Olivia just continued to stare at you in shock, and you just gave her a small nod of encouragement. Slowly, you reached to interlock hands with Ryland, and he squeezed your fingers with affection. He turned to give you a helpless smile, like he was silently apologizing for his students’ behavior. You just softly chuckled, choosing to lean your head on his shoulder instead.
“You— she—” Olivia could barely get the words out.
Her peers groaned in frustration, “what is it?!”
Then, you dropped the equivalent of an atomic bomb in the middle of the room— you raised your left hand, flashing a modest diamond ring adorning your finger.
Everyone was stunned, and Olivia confirmed what they were all struggling to believe.
“It means,” she said slowly, “Her last name is Grace.”
a/n: it might be kinda unrealistic for them not to notice your wedding bands but let’s just go along with it... as always, thanks for reading !!
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Obsessed with the idea of Grace and us (established couple) being on the Hail Mary together and we have our time trying to figure out who we are, what we mean to each other, grieve our lost crewmates, and cry over the fact that we were sent off on a suicide mission against our will.
… and then randomly one day after becoming more adjusted to our situation, we realized that we’re a romantic couple alone together in space unsupervised… that is until Rocky comes along later but still…
Romantic couple left alone together in space unsupervised
i love the project hail mary fandom because everyone is on board with the delusion. ryland has a twin thats just ryan gosling from another movie? sure. markiplier is here too? why not. plot twist, they're actually triplets and there's a third brother who works for the cia who, again, is just ryan gosling from another movie? absolutely spectacular.
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Rocky thought that a hickey was the human equivalent of a mating mark. So, one day when the purplish bruise on your neck finally faded, Rocky panics.
“Grace and (YLN) not mates anymore. Question?” Frantic chords vibrate from him. Both you and Ryland look confused as to where he got this idea. “Huh? No, buddy. No way. We’re still very much together” Ryland answered, reaching up to push his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, “why did you think we weren't?”
The verbal confirmation that his favourite humans haven’t split up, calms Rocky down. He lets out a slower series of notes, “Mating mark not there on (YLN) anymore”. Ryland’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Mating mark?” He blinked, tracking Rocky’s pointed claw, which was pointed at you. Ryland turned his head toward you, only to find you already touching the exact spot at the base of your neck where the hickey had been. Ryland’s eyebrows shot upward, his lips parting as he breathed a faint, horrified, “Oh”.
Immediately, he flushes. “Rocky, no!” his voice cracking slightly. “Uhm, that’s completely…that’s not…” He trailed off helplessly, his eyes darting to you in a plea for backup. You offered absolutely none. Instead, you bit down hard on your lower lip, shoulders shaking as you held back your laughter.
“That is absolutely not a mating mark, bud" Ryland attempted to tap back to his teacher-voice, though it was currently a full octave higher than normal, "humans don’t carry permanent biological indicators of…of pair-bonding”. Rocky’s form tilts, “But Grace give that mark during mating, yes. Question?” Letting out series of curious chords.
Whatever composure Ryland had left shattered. His shoulders slumped forward. At that exact moment, he looked like he would gladly float into the scary, infinite dark space rather than spend another second explaining his sexual choreography to a five-legged alien. “Grace not answer Rocky" the Eridian says, his tones shifting into a disapproving hum. "Grace not good mate to (YLN). Statement”. That was your breaking point, finally letting yourself laugh.
Ryland buried his face entirely in his hands, letting out a groan. “Oh my God, stop laughing, baby” Ryland mumbled into his palms, his voice muffled. He looks up at Rocky again, “Rocky, It’s just…a pressure mark. Uhm, kind of a bite. It has nothing to do with our relationship status”.
Rocky lifted two claws, mimicking a pinching motion, “Grace bite (YLN) for science. Question?”You leaned against a table, wiping a tear from your eye. “Yes, Dr Grace” you managed to breathe out, “please tell our Eridian friend. Was it for science?”
Ryland dropped his hands, glaring at you with a mixture of betrayal and embarrassment, though a tiny smile threatened to crack through his flushed state. “You are evil” he muttered to you, before turning back to Rocky, “No, Rocky. Not for science. Just…human biology is weird. Can we talk about actual science now? Please?”
Rocky let out an amused tune “Humans weird weird weird. Grace more weird”. Ryland suddenly felt the same helplessness he felt back on Earth, being a middle school science teacher trapped in a classroom full of giggling preteens.
