Finally (Aizawa x Reader)

Admit It

"Oh, fuck!" Aizawa startles you awake with his exclamation and a squeeze of your hand. The two of you make eye contact, then look at your hands, yours still resting on his. "Oh, I'm sorry," he mutters, gently pulling his hand from under yours. You hear the tinkling of a bell running away from the bed.

You rub your eyes, still trying to gain your bearings from waking so suddenly. "Wha..? What happened? What time is it?"

Aizawa musses your hair and gets up from the bed, "Good morning, (y/n). Yoru stepped on me, I didn't mean to wake you." He glances at the clock on the wall. "Looks like we slept in, it's just past 11."

While he stretches, you notice that, for the first time in the two years you've known him, Shota looks... well-rested.

"Good morning. So, how'd you sleep? Sorry if I snored," you say with a yawn, sitting up in bed.

"Really well, actually," Aizawa calls from the kitchen. You hear the tap running and know coffee is coming soon. You already could tell that he'd slept well, but you smile to yourself hearing it confirmed.

"Do you need any help?"

"No, not at all. Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just coffee is good for now," you lay back down and snuggle into the covers, enjoying the feel of domesticity.

It's as natural as breathing, being with Shota. Laughing with him, watching movies with him, cooking with him... The things you do with him all the time. Waking up in bed next to him is new, but it feels like you've done it hundreds of times before. You can smell his scent on his pillow, and fight the urge to bury your face in it like some love-struck teenage girl with her first boyfriend's hoodie.

"Still tired?" Aizawa asks, bringing two mugs of coffee in bed with him.

You shake your head and sit back up in bed. "Nope, just comfy." You grab your cup of coffee and breathe in the warmth radiating from it. You take a sip and smile - it's perfect. You knew it would be, though. The two of you have been making each other coffee several times a week for two years now.

The rest of the day follows in the same way, a lazy Saturday filled with cups of coffee, scruffy hair, a bit of lesson planning, grading some papers, cooking together in his tiny kitchen. Domestic fucking bliss, you smile to yourself.

                                                               ~~~

"No, I completely understand, thank you," you hang up your phone.

"What's the verdict?" Shota turns from his laptop.

"Between the cleanup and replumbing, maintenance said it will take at least four days," you rub your face with a sigh. "If I can't find a hotel that allows cats, can Macaroni stay with you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Aizawa looks at you as though you've grown another head.

"I can't expect you to house me for four nights."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're welcome here as long as you'd like," he says as he stands from his spot at the desk. He heads to the table by the door and grabs his keys. "Anyways, we should probably head to your house to pick up some clothes for you."

You flash an appreciative smile at him, roll off the bed, and head out the door with him.

                                                                ~~~

"Fuck," you hear Aizawa mutter from the kitchen as you pack clothes in your bedroom.

"What's up?" you call to him as you finish packing your socks.

"It's... nothing."

"I don't believe that," you respond, already on your way to investigate. While you were packing, it appears as though Shota decided to put away the dishes that you didn't get to before the movie night last night. He pinches his left pinky finger. "Did you cut yourself?!"

"It's nothing, it's just a tiny little -"

"Shh, let me see what's going on," you gently grab his left hand and carefully look at the damage. It's nothing terrible, but it definitely should be bandaged. "Oh, I'll get this fixed up, give me one second!"

"You don't need to," Shota said, shaking his head.

"It's no problem," you wave your hand dismissively while you grab your first aid kit. "You have to start letting me take care of you for a change. You-"

"You don't need to take care of me, I can do it," Shota reaches to take the first aid kit from you.

"You always take care of me. Why do you never let me return the favor? Do you think I can't handle it?" you ask, forcing the bandage on his pinky.

"Of course not," Shota stares at the bandage. "There's not much you can't handle."

"Well, then why not?" you feel frustration rising in your stomach. You just want to take care of this stubborn man who you love so dearly. He turns away from you and looks out the window, ignoring your question. Still, you press further. "Shota. Why?"

He sits at the table, still looking out the window. You can't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I... I'm in love with you. I thought I could set aside these feelings for the sake of our friendship but I need to admit it... To say it out loud... That's why I always take care of you. But don't worry, if you don't feel the same we can just go ba-"

You stand in front of him and turn his head so he is no longer looking out the window. You place your hand against his right cheek. Your thumb lightly traces the scar under his eye. "Shota, please. Shh." You feel the warmth of his skin under the pads of your fingers, his stubble against the heel of your hand. You can hardly catch your breath as you whisper, "I love you, too."

Aizawa looks up into your eyes, grabs your hand, and stands up. His body is so close to yours, you have to tilt your head up to look into his eyes. He releases your hand to wrap his arm around the small of your back. You both are still, standing with bated breath. You hear the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears. After what seems like an eternity, Shota gently reaches his free hand to your face. His thumb catches underneath your chin, the rest of his fingers tracing your jawline as he leans his head down. You both close your eyes, breaking the electric eye contact you had been holding since you told him the truth. You push yourself up onto your tippy-toes, anxious to close the space between his lips and yours.

Finally, you feel his lips. He kisses you so gently, as though you might break under him. All too soon, he pulls away and inhales sharply- he had been holding his breath the entire time. He presses his forehead to yours and your (e/c) eyes meet his black ones.

You start to speak, but before you get the chance, his lips are on yours once again, hungrier this time. The arm around you tightens, pulling you against his chest. The other hand moves from your face to your hair and he intertwines his long, slender fingers into your hair. His kisses are urgent, reinforced with the anticipation and desire from every single day for over two years. You swear you could stay here, pressed against his body, feeling the heat of his growing desire, forever.