Haven't Rewatched The Whole Show Through But I'm P Sure Dale Is The Most Sane Twd Character

i just think its healthy to have one punching bag character. the anti blorbo. i know so much abt them and their story and understand them better than anyone but i do not wanna see them succeed. i wanna be the one that dangles them over a shark tank

calculator app looooves to disguise itself as clock app. shell put on her little makeup and wig and you tap on her and then your all in numbers andd calculations world and you go i didnt want this!!!!!!! and you have to miserable leave and go crawling over to clock app whos a mean old hag whos always waking you up and you think God i wish i was at calculator right now

change hurts but change is necessary.

— minimalist retro dividers

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i'm such a sucker for this trope omg

nanami x reader

~cowardly knight

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knight! nanami x princess! fem! user

tags : royalty au / angsty / minimal fluff / no smut / nanami is a hot knight / princess user

a/n : guys im srsly thinking ab posting on ao3 but jm so nervous.. if anything itd definitely be this trope bc its one of my all time faves, anyways enjoy this oneshot !

context : after a long day, you and nanami take a midnight stroll in the castle gardens, and you cant help but wonder if he reciprocates your feelings

lmk what u think about this!

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As a princess, every movement, every word, every decision was watched, judged, and scrutinized by the kingdom. The crown, though beautiful, was heavy. You wore it not just on your head, but on your very soul. The royal duties, the endless appearances, the constant expectations—all weighed on you like an invisible cloak you couldn’t shake off.

But there were moments when you could escape. Moments when the pressure of the palace walls seemed to fade, if only for a while. The castle gardens were your sanctuary. In the quiet of the night, the sounds of rustling leaves and the scent of blooming flowers were the only things that filled the air. Here, you could breathe freely, if only for a brief moment, and feel the freedom that life outside the castle might offer.

The moon hangs high in the sky, casting a pale, silvery glow across the castle gardens. The night air is crisp, cool enough to make you pull your cloak tighter, but not biting enough to truly discomfort you. The world feels still, as if the very night has paused for a breath.

Nanami walks just behind you, always at a slight distance, never too far to be out of reach, but not close enough to invade your space. He is your knight—his place is always by your side, ever watchful, ever vigilant. No matter where you go, no matter the time, his duty is to accompany you, to protect you. Even now, in the stillness of the garden, he remains close, his every movement calculated, his attention unwavering.

“Such a peaceful night,” Nanami remarks, his voice steady, as calm and composed as ever. He glances at you briefly, his tone softening just slightly. “It’s rare to have a moment like this.”

You don’t answer immediately, lost in the beauty of the night sky above. But as the wind picks up, you feel a chill run through your body. You try to ignore it, hoping it will pass, but the breeze is relentless. Another shiver shakes you, more noticeable now.

Nanami notices it immediately. Of course, he does. He’s always watching, always aware of the smallest details. He steps forward, closing the distance between you, his pace steady but purposeful. Without a word, he pulls his cloak from his shoulders and gently drapes it around you. The heavy fabric envelops you, its warmth immediately a comfort against the cold that’s settled in your bones.

His hands linger just for a moment as he adjusts the cloak, ensuring you’re covered. His touch is brief, professional, but there’s something in the way he does it that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You shouldn’t be cold,” he says, his voice steady and calm. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re safe, Your Highness.”

His words are like they always are—impersonal, duty-bound. But there’s an undercurrent to them, something softer, something more that he doesn’t allow himself to express. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his attention once more turning to the path ahead. But you can feel the shift, the subtle way his focus remains on you even though he tries to hide it.

Nanami is your knight. His duty is clear. To serve. To protect. To remain by your side no matter what. Even if his heart wants to do more, he must push those feelings away. He can’t let them show. He can’t afford to. It’s easier this way.

But the longer he’s near you, the harder it becomes to ignore the way he feels. The warmth of your presence, the quiet moments when you’re just together, these moments are starting to blur the lines between what is duty and what he’s beginning to crave.

He clears his throat softly, trying to rid himself of the distraction. “Are you warm enough now?”

His eyes glance briefly over to you, still not meeting your gaze directly, but there’s something in his expression that isn’t quite as composed as usual. A softness that betrays the discipline he works so hard to maintain.

You pull the cloak tighter around your shoulders, feeling the warmth of the fabric seeping into your skin. You can still feel the heat of Nanami's hands, the brief moment they lingered on your shoulders. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you glance over at him.

"Thank you, Nanami," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper in the still night air. "You always take such good care of me."

Your eyes meet his for a moment, and you think your knees might buckle under his intense gaze.

"I'm warm now," you assure him, turning back to the path ahead. You keep walking, your footsteps falling in time with his. The silence between you is comfortable, easy, even if the air feels charged with a tension you can't quite name.

"Do you ever wish..." you start, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "Do you ever wish things could be different? That we could just be Nanami and (name), not what our duties force us to be?”

Nanami's brow furrows slightly at your question, a rare display of emotion crossing his features. He's silent for a long moment, considering your words carefully. When he speaks, his voice is low and measured, as if choosing each word deliberately.

"Things are as they are, Princess," he says finally, his tone gentle but firm. "My duty, my purpose, is to serve you. As the princess, your role is to lead our kingdom, to be a beacon of hope and inspiration for all of our people."

He pauses, and for a brief instant, you think you see a flicker of longing in his eyes. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the steadfast resolve you've come to expect from your loyal knight.

"But in moments like these," he continues softly, "when the world around us is still and quiet, and the weight of our duties feels a bit lighter... I suppose I do allow myself to imagine what it might be like. To be free of the expectations, the titles, the constant vigilance..."

You listen intently to Nanami's words, your heart aching at the rare glimpse of vulnerability he's allowing himself to show. You know how difficult it is for him to open up like this, to step even momentarily outside of his role as your stoic, unyielding protector.

Impulsively, you reach out and place your hand over his on the sleeve of his cloak, giving it a gentle squeeze. The fabric is rough beneath your fingers, but you can feel the firmness of the muscle underneath. You look up at him, your hair falling over your shoulders as you meet his gaze.

"Nanami," you say softly, your voice filled with a tenderness you rarely allow yourself to express. "You are so much more than just my knight. You're my friend, my confidant, my..."

Your voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you. Nanami's eyes widen slightly at your impassioned declaration, and for a breathless moment, you think he might say something more. Something that would change everything between you. But the moment passes, and he simply nods, his jaw tightening as he looks away.

"Your Highness... you are too kind to say so," he says, his voice carefully neutral once more. "I am honored to serve as both your knight and your friend."

But your heart sinks a little as you hear his words, a flicker of disappointment passing through you. You know he's holding back, keeping himself in check just as he always does. As much as his loyalty and dedication mean the world to you, a part of you yearns to see the real Nanami. The man beneath the armor, the heart behind the stoic exterior.

You take a step closer to him, your voice softening to a whisper. "Nanami, please... You don't have to always put up this front with me. Not when we're like this, not just the two of us. Alone."

Nanami's breath catches in his throat at your words, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He's not used to such open vulnerability from you, such a direct acknowledgment of the man behind the knight. For a long moment, he simply stares at you, his gaze searching yours, as if trying to discern the sincerity behind your words.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reaches up and gently cups your cheek with his calloused hand. His thumb brushes lightly over your soft skin, a tender gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is warm, comforting, and yet there's an undercurrent of tension, a restrained energy that hints at the strength and power always lurking just beneath the surface.

"You see more than most, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion he rarely allows himself to express. "More than I often give you credit for." He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the faint, masculine scent of him. His other hand comes up to rest on your hip, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. His grip is firm, and yet somehow gentle.

"Very well, Princess," he whispers, his breath mingling with yours. "I live to serve you."

Nanami's eyes flick down to your lips, lingering there for a long moment. The air between you feels charged, electric, heavy with a tension you've never experienced before. Your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm that echoes in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between your bodies, but you find yourself rooted to the spot, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze.

Giving you every opportunity to back away, Nanami leans in closer. His lips hover just a hair's breadth from yours, close enough that you can feel the whisper of his breath against your skin. Your eyelids flutter closed, your breath catching in your throat as you wait, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly.

Just before your lips meet, a sudden gust of wind rushes through the garden, sending your hair whipping around your face and breaking the spell. The moment shatters, and he jerks back as if burned, his eyes flying open.

"Princess, I..." he starts, his voice rough and strained. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Forgive me, I... I shouldn't have-... I let my desires cloud my judgment. It's not right for me to impose such familiarity upon you, Your Highness."

Your heart races as you blink up at Nanami, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. "Oh... I- I see." You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "It's alright, Nanami. I..." You trail off, at a loss for words, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment that just transpired between you.

Nanami takes a step back, putting some much-needed distance between your bodies. He bows his head, his blonde hair falling forward to hide his expression as he struggles to regain his composure. When he speaks again, his voice is carefully controlled, devoid of the raw emotion from moments before.

"It's late, Your Highness. We should head back inside the castle," he says, his tone apologetic yet firm. "The night grows cold, and it's not safe for you to be out in the garden any longer."

He extends his hand towards you, a silent invitation to take his arm. His eyes meet yours, and there's a flicker of something in their steely depths - a mix of concern, regret, and a lingering heat that he can't quite extinguish.

“Please, allow me to escort you back inside," he says softly, his voice a gentle plea. "Your chambers are waiting, and you need your rest."

You frown, your lips turning downwards as you look away from him, your hair falling like a curtain to hide your disappointment. You cross my arms over your chest, the silk robe slipping off of your shoulder, exposing your skin to the ruthless wind.

"I'm not a child, Nanami," You say, your voice tinged with a hint of petulance and barely concealed hurt. "I can walk myself back to my chambers just fine."

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you read too much into his gentle touches and heated looks. Maybe he doesn't feel the same way you do...

Nanami's eyes widen at the petulant tone in your voice, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his handsome features. He reaches out to steady you as you cross your arms, his hand coming to rest on your bare shoulder. The coolness of the night air is a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch, making you shiver.

"Princess, I never said you were a child," he says, his voice gentling as he tries to soothe your hurt. "Forgive me if I offended you with my words. That was not my intent."

His thumb brushes lightly over your shoulder, a comforting gesture that belies the tension in his stance. He looks down at you, his gaze searching yours.

"I merely wish to do what is best for you, Your Highness. Your safety, your well-being... they are everything to me." He hesitates for a moment before continuing, his voice lowering to a softer tone. "But more than that, I want to protect your heart. To shield you from the pain and heartache that can come with... with complicated feelings."

"Let me go."

"Your majesty-"

"That was an order."

"...As you wish, Princess."

did mint even write it if there isn't at least one heart wrenching line

Inevitable Things : chapter thirteen

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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The sheer force he kisses you with aches. Shouta's lips are slick with your cum and his tongue tastes like you, musked and slightly salty in the way that almost makes you search for it, but you don't care. No, you revel in it. In the dark, you both grope and grind, his clothed knee sliding between your legs. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, but then you remember he already knows. It’s all his fault.

Your hands slide under his shirt. His body is soft in ways you like, in ways you don't recognize. Touya’s body was thin to the point of almost frailty, while Aizawa's feels perfect for grasping, for pulling towards you, perfect for pressing against. Sex is fun, you decide. Despite all the awkwardness and tension and overstimulating, sex is good. You get Nemuri's obsession with it, you understand why people crave it. It's so basic, so primitive; it tickles the back of your brainstem, a fundamental part of you that needed it most of all.

And yet. 

And yet you need more.

You can feel how used your body is, how puffy and fried your clit is from the attention, but it's barely done anything to quell the want that's been building inside you. How, after all of that, can you still feel so unsatisfied? So insatiable? What the fuck has this man done to you? What door has he unlocked inside your mind?

Together, you peel his shirt from his body. Skin to skin contact, your breasts against his chest: it all feels right. The animal part of your brain sparks up once again. It’s so basic of a need that it eats at you like hunger. Lust drives you, pushes you. You never feel old, but suddenly you feel young and excited. 

When your hands wander south, Shouta breaks away. 

“What do you think you're doing?”  You swear he's glowering at you through the dark; you can feel his breath huff, but it doesn't stop your fingers from slipping open the button of his pants. He smells like aftershave, but there’s still a patch of scruff on his jawline, presumably missed in the rush to see you. Blindly, you try to kiss at it.

“Touching you.” Why are you so giggly? So sweet?

Your fingers brush against the trail of hair between his stomach and the edge of his briefs. It's short, cropping as if he used to shave, but hasn't in a time. His body shudders at the touch, his hands pulsing tighter, tighter around your tits. Oh, that makes something burn hotter inside you, knowing how you have an equally big effect on him as he had on you.

 “Careful.”

“Or what?” Your voice is still quivering from cumming so hard, but you're gaining confidence.  “You afraid I'm going to make you cum?”

You force the fly open and work his pants down. He doesn't help you, his hands frozen in place as you wiggle. The effort steals a laugh from you, then he joins in, softly. It’s a surprisingly tender moment, but it doesn’t rob you of the tension. The want is building in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“I just don't think-” he whispers. Your thumbs are tucking under his waistband. His skin is warm and soft; you want to touch more of it.

“-I'll behave-”

With a press, you can feel his briefs inch down and the weight of his cock shift. It strikes you that you haven't touched it yet. No, you've only seen it in that picture, only felt it through cloth. Something inside you flutters at the thought of how thick he looked. Could you even take all of it? Truthfully, you doubt it; you’re not a virgin, but you aren’t exactly experienced either. Is it possible to be bad at sex? 

Just as you start to spiral, Aizawa catches you by the elbow. It’s almost impossible to worry with him and the way he touches, the focus he gives you. Even the way he grips your arm feel scandalous, charged with want and desire, like he's going to hold you like this forever, like he's going to live up to his promise and use you however he wants.

“-if you pull my cock out while I'm between your legs.” Aizawa swallows deep. “So, really think about-”

Clumsily, you crane up and catch him in a kiss, your lips blindly smooshing into his cheek.  It’s just enough to catch him off guard, to steal an extra moment before you reach down the front of his pants and wrap your hands around his member. God, it's thick. Almost grossly so. Can your body even take all of that?

“I thought you were gonna do whatever you wanted with me,” you mumble into his scruff. His cock is hot and slick with his own precum. When you run your fingers down the underside, Shouta practically chokes on his spit. That’s right; you’ve cum three times today, but he’s been practically untouched. He must be aching for it. 

With a shaky hand, you drag his cock down, through the wet of your pussy. The sensation sends a shock through both of you; at the same time, you both gasp and hiss, keening deeper against each other. Earlier, everything felt hot, soft and dripping like your core was nothing but melted metal, but now it’s purely electric. Every touch of skin trills through you like a shock, lights up your brain like sparks. Fuck-- this is fun. You’re having fun. 

“You said you wanted to go slow.” Aizawa’s voice is almost a plea-- a final warning. 

You slide your legs wider and Aizawa’s body shifts down, lining up against yours. You can feel him, pressed just hard enough against your cunt to nestle between your lips, barely an inch away from where you want him. The promise of stretch nearly takes your breath away. No-- he isn't where you want him: he's where you need him.

You swallow down your last bit of worry and let your head fall back on to the pillow. 

“Then fuck me slow.” 

It’s not unusual for Aizawa to curse, but the string of swears that escape his mouth sends a chill down your spine. It’s blurted, rushed, slurred; He’s never a chatty man, but now he rambles, mouth never stopping as his hips press forward.

“Needy thing, pretty thing, sweet thing.” The tip of his cock pops inside you without much resistance. You're too soaked for friction, almost too wet. The taste of him makes your toes curl, pussy clench- it's not enough, not enough, not enough-

Your partner hunches over, forehead clunking against yours with a pained groan. 

“How are you that fucking tight?” he gripes. “How are you so fucking perfect ?” 

“Shou-” you wiggle your hips and he groans again, deep and wild. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

“I will, I am--”

“Please!”

“I'm trying not to--”  He takes a shaky breath. His hands are clenched in the sheets, so hard you can feel his bicep flex against your side.  “Embarrass myself.”

A thrill runs down your spine. Your body suits him so well that he's already on the brink, already ready to cum. It makes your ego flare. He wants you. he wants you so badly. After making you cum so many times, the only thing you should want is petty revenge, but now, in this moment, you want him to feel good with you.

“I don't care,” you urge. Your hand sneaks down between your legs, working tiny circles around your abused clit. The sensation is electric, so much so that you swear you can see lightning behind your eyes. An orgasm might not even be possible at this point, but you can't help but try. “Just fuck me.”

Finally- thankfully, beautifully, finally- Aizawa sinks his whole cock into you. It's been a while since someone's been inside you, so the pressure feels good, but strange and unfamiliar. A sound must escape you: Aizawa suddenly stops, pulling back ever so slightly. 

"Are you okay-?"

“Keep going-” You urge as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Keep going.” 

Ever so obedient, Aizawa rolls his hips, harder this time. Your body makes lewd sounds with every stroke, the wet smack of your folds being spread audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. Your muscles give to his thickness and you can feel every stroke deepen until his hips are finally pressed against yours. The button of his pants digs into your ass, but the discomfort is almost pleasurable.

“Needed this, didn’t you?” he whispers. “Needed to be taken care of?”

Your voice is staccato with his thrusts. He’s not being rough, but you’re so sensitive that it feels like he is manhandling you, abusing your overly loved body- “Y-yeah.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t take care of you?”

If he had said that at any other time, you may have gotten upset, but you feel so open, so bare-

“No…” You flop back onto the mattress. You hadn’t realized how curled you had been against him, how hard your fingers had been digging into his skin. The relaxation changes to pleasure; it’s a sweet, liquid heat, rolling through you like melted molasses. “No, he never-- he couldn’t--”

“Poor thing-”  His teeth nip at the stop under your earlobe, catching skin with his canines. “So neglected-”

Oh, that cocktail of hormones in your brain has you stupid and emotional.  “Yeah.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bites again and you know there’s going to be another bruise to explain away tomorrow. “I’ll spoil you.”

Aizawa hooks an arm under your leg and lifts it. The angle changes and his cock hits a previously untouched spot; your body kicks and twitches. It feels impossible, but you’re going to cum again, you’re going to cum before he does, and you’re going to revel in it.

“Touch-” Your voice is high with want. “Touch my tits?”

It’s barely a question, almost a demand, and Aizawa is more than eager to obey. His free hand finds the pebbled curve or your nipple and flicks his thumb over it, searching for a positive reaction. When he doesn’t get it, he changes his touch, waiting to your approval.

“Like that-” you finally confirm. His rutting gets harder, but not faster; it's slow grinds, taking advantage of every inch and then some. The coarse of his pubic hair is delightful friction against your clit; it nearly hurts with how good it feels.  “Just like that-”

“Good// girl, yes.” His tone is so desperate. “Tell me what you need.” 

Oh, you wish you could, but your voice is failing you right now. It's like every brain cell in your head is dedicated to lighting up with ecstasy, downing in him, him, him, him--

“I'll give it to you, give you everything you ever want-” Shouta whispers into the shell of your ear. He's being so steady, so patient; it's nothing like the other times you had sex. There's no rush, no urgency.  “I want you spoiled. I want you greedy. I want to ruin you for anyone else.” 

You can't cum again. Your body is too spent, too used, too-- too-- too--

Everything inside you goes rigid and you come undone once again. It's embarrassing and loud: both your mouth and your cunt. You're saying something, but you don't know what, if it's even words at all. The heat of pleasure is boiling your mind, your senses. 

You’re not a virgin. You haven't been for years, but suddenly you feel inexperienced, naive. Sex could feel like that? It could make you feel like this?

Shouta's hips press against yours and he groans, deep and unabashed. Warm fills you, accompanied by the twitch of his cock, and you realize he's cumming too, melting into you--

At the last moment, he catches you in an open mouthed kiss. It's messy, mostly tongue and spit, the kind you can't breathe through, but you find yourself pressing back, licking and sucking and nipping and drowning in it all, giving yourself to the moment--

“That was-”

You clumsily slap a hand upwards, tapping the side of his face. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you still can’t fully make out his silhouette. 

“Don't talk,” you mumble.  “I-- haa.” 

The roll of your hips just won't stop. The last flickers of your orgasm are still burning and you can't help but stroke them on. You swear there's literally sparks behind your eyes and no bones left in your body; you don't know how you're even moving. Against your will, your cunt twitches, pulling a pained groan from Shouta.

“Can I speak now?” he mumbles through your fingers. Your hand falls back to the bed. “You're going to have to give me a couple minutes before another round.”

The hard of his cock is already softening inside you.  God, the cloud of post-coitus bliss has you so soft you feel sappy; you never want him to pull out, never want to lose his body heat. If you could lift your arms again, you'd wrap them around him.

“My heart might stop if we go again,” you whine. That was the first bare cock you've ever taken. 

He chuckles and it hits you in the chest like a fucking bullet. Oh, this is bad. Pathetic. Lovely. You might cry or laugh or pass out.

 “Is that good?” he asks, tone evident that he knows it's very, very good.

“I think I came so hard I had a stroke.” That has to be the only reason you’re feeling so wobbly.

“The only stroke is you stroking my ego.” A pitiful noise escapes you as he rolls away, groaning as he gets to his feet. He sucks in air through his teeth, then releases it carefully.The room is suddenly unbearably cold; you shake and shiver, silently wishing he’d come back.  “Let's get you cleaned up. Light’s coming on.” 

 The sound of his hands fumbling on the side table is followed by the click of the lamp turning on. Warm light floods the room and you finally get a glimpse of him. His already loose curls are mussed, fallen in front of his flushed cheeks. His chest has a sprinkling of hair - trimmed, it seems - and a trail down from his belly button. He's already tucked his cock away into his briefs, but his pants are unzipped. His underwear is a light green; it makes you laugh a bit. At least both of you are fucked. 

Shouta takes his turn to observe you. You must look even worse: naked, hair a mess, legs spread and cum dripping down the track of your ass. 

“Shit-” Sleep nearly sideswipes you immediately, so hard you’re struggling to even care. “We made a mess.”

Aizawa regards you again, brow raised. “Mostly you.” 

Oh, you beg to differ. The mess he made inside you feels sloppy and slippery, leaking from much too deep inside you. It's the first bare cock you've ever taken, you realize. It felt dangerously good, with none of the friction or stink of the condom. Even the tickle of warmth inside you is surprisingly pleasant.

That's dangerous knowledge, especially with the consequences.

“You shouldn't have…”  you try to sit up a bit to be serious. “Inside me.”

Realization catches Aizawa's face. 

“I should have asked,” he says.   “I was… caught up.”

“It’s okay.” Especially because you liked it. You flop back down with a sigh. “I’ll get a Plan B in the morning.”

Aizawa  shifts his weight and hisses at the pressure. Before you can say anything he turns, headed towards the bathroom.

“I… I can’t get you pregnant.”  The faucet runs while he speaks. “I can buy it for you anyway, if you want to be extra safe.” 

“Oh,” you say, shifting uncomfortably. You believe him, of course; he's not a liar. Maybe about silly things, but not about this. “I didn’t know that.”

He turns the sink off and returns, washcloth in hand. 

“Of course you didn't.” Aizawa gestures for you to spread your legs. You hesitate, then remember exactly what you've been doing these past two days. He's eaten your cunt; you guess he can see it again. Resting against the edge of the bed, he runs the cloth against the mess inside of your thighs. It's hot, but not uncomfortably so. “Sterility doesn’t come up in conversation very often.”   

He runs the cloth into the crook between your leg and pussy. You would have thought the act demeaning, but it’s sweet.

“Vasectomy?” you ask. 

“Nature. Maybe the accident. Either way.” 

He shrugs it away, but there's an edge of something deeper in his voice. He tries to hide it, eyes focused down as he folds the towel over itself and then gingerly touches it to your outer lips.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” you mumble. 

“It’s not prying,” he says.  “I’d argue it’s very much your business right now.” 

The washcloth gets tossed into a corner. The thought of it mildewing there makes your stomach turn, but you're entirely too tired to consider picking it up yourself. Your partner knots his hair into a low hanging bun, just something to get the hair off of his nape. He hesitates at the edge of the bed, not entirely on or off, just hovering in the periphery. 

“Did you want kids?”  

Aizawa glances up, brows knotted together. This time, you really think you may have overstepped. 

“I didn’t mean with me!” you try to recover. Just… in general.”

You're ready for him to step away, but instead he sinks a bit closer to you in the bed, head lounged, lips pursed. 

“No, I don’t.” He heaves it like a confession.   “Considered it for a moment. But, I decided I’m not the paternal type.”

Shouta huffs so hard that his body puffs and deflates.

“Can barely handle those fucking interns.”

The laugh sneaks out of you. Aizawa watches you from his perch, eyes narrowed with amusement. The cool air starts biting at your skin; you scuttle under the covers, then pat the space beside you.

“You scare the shit out of them,” you say. 

“Good.” 

“You could be nicer.”

You pat the empty space again. This time, Shouta obliges. He settles under the covers, a healthy distance from you.  

“It's my job to be mean. We're making items that directly affect people's lives.” He shares your pillow, the special one you brought from home, the silk one that gives just right. “Have you ever been in a hospital bed?”

“No.”

“It's miserable. You don't get a lot of rest. Nurses come in every couple of hours to check on you-- nurses working twelve hour shifts with too many patients to handle.” His eyes are distant, even as he looks your way.  He's thinking about the accident. You want to ask questions about it, but instead you listen. “If we can design something to make that experience better, something to help patients and nurses, we should be serious about it. They should care.”

A moment passes. You try to imagine him younger, sadder. You try to imagine him in those beds-- then try to imagine him before. The silvered scar on his cheek: what would his face look without it?

“I know on the surface it sounds silly,” he continues, a bit more grave. “It's a bed. But if we can make monitoring tools for nurses easier, feed reports directly into the system. Heart rate, breaths per minute, blood pressure-- it takes a load off of their plates and lets them focus on patients who need it.”

His head rolls towards you and your noses are only inches from each other. It feels like you’ve been momentarily allowed into an inner sanctum, opened a door to a part of him you shouldn't be allowed to see. The long nights at the office make more sense now; you had always thought he was just a workaholic. 

“And these beds might be the last place someone lives before they die.”  Aizawa says. “They deserve comfort. Dignity.”

He tilts his head down to regard you, then starts a bit, bewildered. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” 

You bite down your own smile. 

“Just…” Your hand finds his chest. “Didn't realize you cared so much.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as he places his own hand over yours. 

“Don't tell the interns,” he grumbles. “Don't want them to think I'm soft.”

The sleep that nips are your cerebellum is the cozy kind, the kind that eeks your eyes closed bit by bit. Aizawa places the towel on the ground and you watch him. His features are the same as they always are, but your brain has recontextualized it all; the silvered scar on his cheek, the flat of his nose… you smile.

“Do you have pictures?” you mumble. 

“Hm?”

“Of your cats.”

Aizawa looks back at you, surprised. Then, he melts a bit, pulling his phone from his pocket. He joins you back on the bed, over the covers, arm scooping behind your head almost protectively. The position is intimate; you make it more so by resting your head on his shoulder. It only takes a moment for him to pull up a photo of two cats, both lounging in a strand of sunshine, both tummy up and dead asleep.

“Sesame.” He points to the black cat in the picture, then the fluffy white and orange one. “Sushi.”

“They're cute.”

“They're good cats.” His voice rumbles in his chest, undertones you've never heard before. You cuddle in closer to listen better, close your eyes to really focus. “Sushi is older now, so she mostly sleeps. Sesame is two-- three, actually.”

You hum in acknowledgement. The thrum of his heart is slow and strong. 

“Been considering getting another. For when Sushi dies.” he tilts his head in thought. “I'm not ready to be a forty year old man with three cats.” 

You try to give him that look again, but your eyes just won't open. “And you said you aren’t paternal.”

There's a long stretch of quiet behind that. 

“Do you have pets?” His voice takes you out of your sleep, but not enough for you to fully rouse. 

“Are you falling asleep?” 

Again, there’s a long stretch of silence, only the rise and fall of your breaths and the hum of the air conditioner to fill the room. Right as you start to lose grip on the waking world, Shouta moves, pressing his lips right into the center of your forehead. 

 “Do you want children?” he asks into your skin, voice frailer than you ever thought possible.

page 232 of the broken kingdoms.....nk jemisin when i catch you.... you've already put me through the broken earth trilogy was that not enough? she probably giggles while destroying the relationships i root for