You were the kind of teacher nobody could ignore. From your stunning appearance to the bubbly one you made just by being around. A ball of energy, playful. Your students love you, the staff did too, but one man just hated it. He hated the sound of that familiar giggly voice, or the laughing coming from everyone. He hated you, the source of such loudness in a world where the introverted man just wanted peace and quiet.

Everyday it was taunts from you, from your teasing gaze that ticked him off to your snarky words and complaints or nearly throwing your clipboard at him. It all made tonight hard. Having to work with you.

principal Nezu just had to pair you both for detention duty. All of the kids cleared out though, leaving the cold small room empty. Aizawa was doing some grading while you sat on a desk, mindlessly tapping your pen repeatedly against the desk you sat at. It was near eleven. The room fell silent as you began working too. But once you finished and your body ached, pleading for a nice stretch— arms above your head, spine cracking, his gaze shifted up, lazily and tiredly, only momentarily and quickly, his red eyes sweeping over just as fast as they glanced away. He could hear you mumble something weird, noting his gaze. It made him grimace. “You’re insufferable.” He groaned, eyes meeting yours as he followed your footsteps nearing his desk, stopping just enough so you could lean your hip against the wood. He just rolled his eyes and resumed his work.

”for a man who hates me you sure seem to love looking.” That sentence sent him. He hated your comments. His pen stilled, gaze shifting back up. He sat the pen down, his chair scraping the ground as he got up and stepped over. In a swift movement his hand was on your hip, drawing you close and closing the space between you with a suddenness that stole your breath. His other hand on the desk- caging you in, his face so close his breath danced with yours. “Is this a game to you? We’re professionals and yet you act like a child. You’d hate if I kept holding back.”

When your breath stilled and your lips twitched in a silent ‘try me’ look, he grew silent. His free hand tightened against the desk, twitching as if begging to touch you. Though it didn’t. He leaned further in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “you’re too much.” And then he retreated, grabbing his work and belongings and returning to the tired indifferent man he always was. “See you tomorrow.” — and he was gone.