Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. (OC/Reader x Aizawa)

Y/N L/N looked on at her opponent. She was armed to the teeth, raring to go, ready for a battle like nothing she'd ever done before.

For her opponent was her depression apartment, filled with dirty laundry and dirty dishes everywhere, and her weapons of choice a bottle of disinfectant spray and cloths. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, hands donning yellow rubber gloves. She knew it needed to be done, and having the rest of the day off paid gave her no excuse to not get it done.

"Okay... Let's go!" She said to no one in particular, before attacking her living room. It took hours, but eventually, the apartment looked 10 times bigger, and every surface was crumb-free and sparkling. The washing machine whirred away in the background, as she finally took a well-deserved break on the couch.

Until she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She let out an audible groan. Aware she was skimpily dressed in a cami top and exercise shorts (emphasis on the short), she slowly opened the door.

In front of her door stood Aizawa Shouta.

"..." The pair stood in silence. She glanced down to the bag he was holding,

"Why are you outside my home?" He ignored her, looking her up and down. She remembered the white scars adorning the sides of her thighs.

"Give me a second." She said before shutting the door. She returned wearing a pair of loose joggers.

"What is it?" She asked. He peered over the top of her head, looking at her apartment.

"Huh. I expected it to be worse." She rolled her eyes, pretending like the apartment wouldn't have met his expectations a few hours ago.

"Again. Why are you here...?" She began to lose patience with him. He took some papers and her lunch tub out of his bag.

"Nezu insisted I take these to you. And he wanted me to talk to you about something." She huffed, standing away from the door frame and gesturing for him to enter. He took one step before she snapped-

"Shoes." He rolled his eyes before taking off his shoes. She kicked an old pair of house slippers at him. He obliged to put them on, unaware they belonged to her ex.

Aizawa continued to take in the apartment as he made his way to the couch- noticing the little things, the corners of peeling paint, floorboards that were a little too creaky, and the dripping tap. The dishes were clean on the drying rack, some chipped and cracked as the water slowly ran down them. There were far too many dishes for one person, he deduced. But there was only one pair of shoes at the entrance. He reasoned that she had only just washed up a massive stockpile of dirty dishes. He noted the punching bag, patched up with duct-tape.

Y/N piqued his curiosity, and he was damn sure going to analyse every piece of information about her thrown at him.

Aizawa sat on the couch, waiting for her to sit. The cami top hugged her torso perfectly, with a cherry blossom colour all over. The shorts she wore earlier were very short, giving him an interesting view when she turned away from the door to change out of them.

He was almost disappointed when she had decided to change out of them.

Aizawa ignored his thoughts as she sat down. She sat on the sofa, as far away from him as she could.

"What is it then?" She folded her arms as she turned to face him.

"Not going to offer me a drink or anything? Not a very good host, are you?" He teased.

"It's bad enough you take up my time and effort at school, don't need you doing it here." She resolved.

"Fine." He adjusted himself so he was facing her.