Aizawa Oneshots

New Years

(Clawing my way out of hell) I live. Oh my god do I live. 

HEY YALL!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!!!!! (ignore that I'm 5 days late) My first chapter, Introduction, was published December 07th, 2023. About two years later (I think) and here we are!

I (once again) apologise that I've been gone. I might've lost my house and am now homeless and living temporarily with my sister... and there's been so much going on outside of that, I just haven't had the motivation to write. Buuuut, I bring y'all a chapter today, even if it is kinda short.

Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well. I have a request for All Might I still have to write, so keep an eye out for that eventually. Uh, requests are open, just give me some time to actually get to them. 

Well, having said that, thank you all for sticking by my side and supporting me through the years.

THIS CHAPTER MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE RECENT SEASONS OF MY HERO ACADEMIA. I tried to leave it vague but just be warned anyways. 

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The power cuts out so cleanly it's almost intentional.

One second, the apartment hums with its usual noise — the refrigerator cycling, the tick of the heater — and the next, everything drops into silence. There's no sputter, there's no warning. Just absence.

Aizawa freezes at the kitchen counter, mug halfway lifted to his mouth.

He waits. Old instincts flare, sharp and automatic, listening for secondary sounds — alarms, impacts, anything that would give away that this is more than an outage. His shoulders remain tight until several long seconds pass without incident.

"...Great," he mutters.

The city is dimmer than usual outside the window. Streetlights flicker, casting uneven shadows over the snowy street below. Someone laughs far off, thin and disembodied.

New Year's Eve.

He sets the mug down carefully, more out of habit than necessity. The coffee has gone lukewarm anyways.

He hears you shifting in the living room. Not startled, just aware.

"Power's out," he calls, voice low and even. "You alright?"

"Yeah," you answer after a moment. "Guess that answers whether the grid was actually fixed."

Aizawa snorts softly and reaches into the drawer by the sink, grabbing the flashlight he keeps there. It clicks on, the narrow beam illuminating the darkness.

Preparedness never really leaves you.

The apartment feels different in the dark.

Smaller and closer. The familiar layout becomes something softer, edges blurred by shadow. Aizawa retrieves the emergency candles from the cabinet above the fridge, untouched since he moved in.

You appear beside him as he lights the first wick.

"I forgot we even had these," you say quietly.

"Because you assume things will work," he replies, though there's no bite in his tone. "They usually don't."

He hands you one of the candles. Your fingers brush briefly — accidental, fleeting. He notices. Like always.

You carry the candle into the living room and set it carefully on the coffee table. Aizawa lights a few more and places them strategically, the warm glow reclaiming the space.

The apartment softens.

Shadows stretch lazily across the walls. The tension drains from his shoulders just enough that he becomes aware of it.

You sit first on the couch, curling one leg beneath you. Aizawa hesitates for a moment before lowering himself beside you, exhaling a tired sigh he doesn't bother to suppress.

"You want a blanket?"

"...Yeah," he admits after a second.

You grab one from the back of the couch and drape it over the both of you. It smells like laundry detergent and something warmer. Something like home.

Aizawa lets himself lean back, head resting against the couch.

Outside, the city grows louder.

Not rowdy, just alive. Distant voices, laughter echoing between buildings, the crack of a firework breaking the quiet. Each sound makes Aizawa tense before he consciously relaxes again.

You notice.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

"...Yeah," he says, which is only partially true. "Just not used to noise meaning celebration."

You don't push.

The clock on the wall is dark, the digital face useless without power.

"I used to think New Year's was stupid," you say after a long moment. "Just... another day pretending to be important."

Aizawa hums in agreement. "Still kind of is."

You smile faintly at that.

"But," you continue, quieter now, "it feels different after everything."

He doesn't look at you right away. His gaze stays fixed on the candle flame, watching it flicker and waver.

"...I thought surviving would feel louder," he admits. "Like something you'd notice."

You shift a little closer, your shoulder brushing his.

"Maybe this is it," you say. "Just quieter than expected."

Something in his chest tightens, not painfully, but enough to remind him he's still capable of feeling it.

A firework booms somewhere in the distance, bright enough to colour the ceiling in muted reds and blues. Cheers follow, carried through the cold wind.

It's midnight.

Aizawa doesn't move.

He glances sideways instead, eyes landing on you. You're watching the window, expression thoughtful, candlelight dancing over your features.

"...Happy New Year," you say softly, testing the words.

He exhales.

"...Yeah," he replies. "I guess it is."

He hesitates, just long enough to consider retreating, then reaches out and rests his hand over yours atop the blanket. His grip is tentative at first, then steadies when you lace your fingers with his.

Neither of you make a big deal out of it.

The city outside celebrates.

But inside? The moment is small and real.

Aizawa lets his head tilt toward you, temple resting lightly against yours. It's not dramatic, and not even particularly romantic.

But it's enough.

"...Stay like this for a bit," he murmurs.

You nod slightly, leaning into him to gently brush your lips against his. "Wasn't planning on moving."