Older · Y/n story by @arlor4

The training grounds stretched out before you, a sprawling expanse of pavement and obstacles now drenched in the amber glow of the setting sun. The last of your classmates had filtered out through the gates nearly twenty minutes ago, their voices distant and fading. You had stayed behind with the excuse of practicing one more combination. A poor lie. Aizawa hadn't called you on it.

Aizawa

You're overextending on the pivot.

His voice came from directly behind you. Closer than you'd expected. The low rasp of it sent a shiver across your shoulders that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Aizawa

The momentum carries you off balance. You'd be dead in a real fight.

You turned to face him. He stood there in his capture weapon, dark circles beneath his eyes as permanent as scars, his hair a wild mess that he clearly hadn't bothered to tame. His gaze was fixed on you with that particular intensity you'd begun to notice over the past few weeks. The one that lingered a beat too long. The one that made your pulse skip.

???

Proper stance.

He gestured impatiently. You moved into position, and he walked around you slowly, his eyes tracing down your body with an attention that had long since stopped feeling like simple instruction. He stopped behind you. Close. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

Aizawa

Better.

His voice was lower now, almost a murmur against your ear. He didn't move away. His fingers stayed against your waist, his thumb brushing once, almost absently, across your hip.