Aizawa Oneshots and More

Rainwater pt3 (ending)

-- Rainwater --
Type of fic: general - SFW
Request: No
Please enjoy!
Requests are open!

As you sit in the police car, your thoughts race, the weight of captivity lingering despite your freedom from the hideout. The police car's interior was a cocoon of tension, the steady hum of the engine and rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows being the only things that break the silence.

The car slows to a halt at an intersection, however, the wailing sirens provide a temporary mask for your movements. In one swift movement, you slip your hands below your legs to get your cuffs to the front of your body. Seizing the opportunity, you unfasten your seatbelt and fling open the door.

"Hey, wait!"

You hear Aizawa's voice call out behind you, but you were already on the move, your feet hitting the wet pavement. Dimly lit streets and rain-soaked alleys became your friends once more as you darted through the city, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, the thrill of escape fueling your every step.

Behind you, however, the police give chase, but it was Aizawa's pursuit that you could sense the most keenly, the weight of his determination quite the presence lingering behind you. The gap between you and him closes with each passing moment, and one quick look over your shoulder and you can see his capture weapon poised and ready to strike. The neon lights of the city's nightlife whir to life, beckoning you forward, promising the possibility of escape.

Just as you begin to believe you were gaining a lead, a sudden rush of movement comes from behind. The hero closes the distance between you two with astonishing speed, his scarf snapping forward like a serpent. He tackles you with precise precision, his arms wrapping around you as his scarf ensnared your body. The force of his tackle sent you sprawling to the rain-soaked pavement, your breath being knocked out of you.

Raindrops once more splattered against your face as you squirmed beneath Aizawa's firm grasp, but both he and his weapon kept you held securely. Your heart pounds in your chest, the city's chaos seeming to hush as the two of you lay locked in this confrontation. It was now that you feel his body press against yours. You lay flat on the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the wet, dirty concrete of the alleyway, the filth smudging against your skin. Aizawa lay above you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as if he was spooning you. His legs straddle your hips, his scarf keeping you still.

The chase has come to an abrupt and dramatic halt. His goggles bore into you, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"The cat wins again, (Y/N)." He purrs in your ear, his voice low and full of an unexpected warmth.

The words send a shiver down your spine, the unexpected intimacy of his voice and this moment unsettling yet strangely electrifying.

"Are you really winning if I keep escaping?" You retort, "sounds like you keep losing."

His smirk deepens considerably and his capture weapon tightens ever so slightly around your body, his fingers digging into your stomach in a way that felt more intimate than anything.

"Perhaps it's all a matter of perspective," he muses, his voice tinged with amusement. As moments pass, you are acutely aware of the pro hero's presence, but it was in this tense moment that Aizawa's true nature as a hero reveals itself. As the distant wailing of sirens grows louder, the flashing lights of police vehicles reflect themselves on Aizawa's goggles. Without hesitation, he shifts his position, maneuvering you behind a stack of discarded crates and out of sight.

Police vehicles arrive, their officers spilling out into the rain-soaked alley. The tension in the air is palpable as you watch through the crates how they scan the area with flashlights in hand. Their search continues, their footsteps becoming dangerously close to your location, but thankfully for you, their efforts yielded no results. Aizawa's strategic positioning and instincts keeps you hidden from view, allowing you to remain undetected.

Minutes pass like hours and finally, the officers retreat, and faintly you can hear them gossip about how they "thought they went this way." Their sirens fade into the distance as they move onto other parts of the city.

The alleyway remains silent now, aside from the pitter patter of rain against concrete. Aizawa's capture weapon slowly retracts from you, his golden goggles focusing on you. He unravels his arms from around you and helps you to your feet. He reaches into one of his pant pockets and out comes a set of clinking keys.

"Your hands," he mutters, "let me see them."

Uncertainty clouds your thoughts, causing you to hesitate. You extend your cuffed hands toward him, palms upturned. The trust that had formed between you and Aizawa urged you to comply in the end.

Aizawa is deliberate as he uses the keys to unlock the handcuffs that bound you. The metallic click of the cuffs releasing felt liberating. You flex your fingers, the sensation of freedom washing over you just as the cool breeze does in this rain-soaked night.

"Why are you helping me?" You ask curiously, eyes meeting his through his goggles. He takes a second to respond, but when he does, his voice is steady.

"I'm not helping you." He states. "I'm maintaining balance. Come with me."

He gestures for you to follow him as he stealths through alleyways, keeping you and him in the shadows. With each step, you couldn't help but wonder about his motivations, or what his cryptic message really meant. He leads you through a series of winding streets, his footsteps soft against the wet pavement.

Eventually, you arrive back at your apartment building, soaked and drenched and yet strangely exhilarated by the night's events. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you push past him and enter the building. The familiar surroundings of your apartment offers a sense of respite from the relentless rain. You were grateful for this moment of calm.

As you stand in your apartment, you wonder about the enigmatic pro hero who had both pursued and protected you. The complexities of your relationship remain a puzzle, the future as uncertain as ever.

With a nod of acknowledgement, he turns to leave, disappearing into the night as silently as he arrived. The echoes of his presence lingers in your apartment, a reminder of the blurred lines that defined your existence in this world of chaos and order.

Standing alone now in your apartment, you were left to contemplate the testament of the intricate balance of uncertainty that shaped your journey and the world around you, where heroism and villainy were not always what they seemed.

"Goodbye, Eraserhead."