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browneyedhimbo · 4 years

Text

Drunken Shenanigans

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompts: “How much did you drink last night?” “You threw a fucking cake at me!”

Summary: After having one too many drinks during a girls night out, your boyfriend comes to pick you up to take you home. Little does he know the trouble your going to cause

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Me? Doing a writing challenge? Yep! Gotta get out of writer's block so I’m hoping this helps. @geosaurusrrex You deserve all the followers! You’re amazing! Hope you all enjoy it!

Please let me know if you want to get tagged in anything. Enjoy! Masterlist

“I’m bein serious!” You pouted. “Why you laughin? T’s not nice y’know,” you slurred. But Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper couldn’t help but laugh at your not only drunken state, but the fact that you managed to fall to the floor while sitting perfectly still on the sofa.

It was supposed to be a girls night out. Just a nice dinner and maybe some drinks after. But that soon took a turn when it started pouring cats and dogs the moment you stepped out of Natasha’s apartment. Running back inside, you sat down to try and wait out the rain, but to no avail. Eventually, you collectively agreed to have girls night right there in the apartment.

“Who needs that fancy expensive ass food when you’ve got mac and cheese and microwavable dinners?” Natasha said while walking to the living room with a tray of food in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

Needless to say, you had a couple of shots and a few beers. That’s how you ended up where you are now. Drunk and pouting on the floor.

"If only Bucky could see you now," Pepper giggled. Your face lit up at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

"Bucky! Bucky," you giggled, "My Bucky, my bucky, where I go, heeeeee goes, my bucky, my bucky," you started laughing uncontrollably, remembering seeing the My Buddy commercial as a kid. The girls just shake their heads at your antics and laugh with you.

-----

It was around midnight when Bucky really started to worry. Constantly checking his phone for updates from you. Usually on girls night, you were gone for a few hours, updated him a few times, and came back around the same time, always between 9-11pm. That's why when the clock struck 12:34am he up and went over to Nat's to see if you were there. People might say he's just being paranoid, but with him being ex-hydra, an ex-assassin, and an Avenger, yeah. He'll get worried someone took you.

The entire car ride to Nat's, he felt uneasy. Every bad scenario going through his head. Hydra kidnapping you, random dude's coming up to you, getting into a car acci - he doesn't even want to finish his thoughts. Blood already boiling and his anxiousness rising. He can't lose you, he'd never be the same.

Pulling up to Natasha's apartment complex, he turned off the engine and took a deep breath, trying really hard to calm his nerves. One last breath and he was running up the stairs to Natasha's apartment.

-----

"I'm hmm’bathroom," you slurred getting up off the floor. You wobbled a bit before gaining balance again. Slowly, you walked to the bathroom. The moment you shut the door you heard commotion coming from the other side.

-----

Banging on the door to Natasha’s, Bucky tried to calm down. He really did. But his racing thoughts hardly let him. That’s why the moment the door opened his mouth went a mile a minute asking about you.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Nat chuckled, opening the door wide enough for him to come inside. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat down on a stool by the kitchen table rubbing a hand over his face. About three minutes later he hears the bathroom door open. He turns around to see you stumbling out, a giggly drunken mess. Immediately he’s at your side.

“Heeey baby,” You giggle as look up at him. All he does is smile and shake his head, guiding you to the sofa. Sitting you down he goes and looks for your coat and purse. Slowly you started to doze off, but the feeling of weight on your shoulders perked you right up.

“Alright you, let’s get you home.” He finished putting your coat on you and grabbed your purse. Both of you saying your goodbyes, he guided you to the elevator, through the lobby, and to the car. At least the rain died down a bit.

The car ride home wasn’t all that of a silent one. Laughs and giggles escaping your mouth every so often making it hard for Bucky to not join you. To him, your laugh was contagious, your smile was bright, and your eyes were entrancing. Yes, even in your goofy drunken state.

Pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building you both lived in, you started reciting different poems and plays. It lasted the entire way up to your apartment. Once inside, you switched to singing random pieces of songs. You started giggling more and even started sloppily dancing around the kitchen. Though it was short lived because as soon as your eyes landed on the small circular dish, you froze. A small mischievous smile forming on your lips. Thanking your lucky stars that your back was to Bucky, he couldn’t really see the cogs turning in your head. Slowly, you grabbed a handful, and turned around. Putting the hand that has the chunk of cake behind your back, you see Bucky kicking off his shoes and putting your coats away. You bit your bottom lip to keep you from laughing again.

With a sigh he turned around and was greeted with a glint of playfulness in your eyes. Cocking his eyebrow and putting his hands on hips, he takes a step to question you, but is met with a handful of cake being thrown at his face. You busted out laughing. With a groan and a sigh, he grabbed some napkins off the counter and turned to face you.

“Really babe?,” he starts to clean the frosting off his face only to get the entire pan of cake launched at him. The pan was stuck to his face for a good 45 seconds before it fell off and clattered to the floor. He looked up at you, an amused yet annoyed look in his eyes.

“Uhhh ohhh,” You said as you ran out of the kitchen in a fit of laughter and into the living room. You jumped on the sofa and tried to bundled yourself in so many blankets as to not get caught but you weren’t fast enough. Bucky grabbed you by your waist and pulled you away from the sofa.

“Nooooo!” You flopped in his arms. But then another brilliant idea flew to your head. He’ll let you go if you give him a big kiss right? Worth a shot. You turned around his arms to face him. Still face covered with frosting, you moved some hair out of his face and kissed him. A short and sweet cake covered kiss. The moment you parted for air, you darted off to your shared bedroom.

He couldn’t help but laugh. The things you did drunk. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this in the morning.

After washing up, Bucky walked into the room and sat right next to your sleeping form. A soft smile appearing on his lips. He lays down and pulls you into his arms. Sleep soon overtaking him.

-----

Cracking open your eyes, you felt your head pound and your body ache. Fucking hell. You groaned, rolling over to cuddle with Bucky, but was met with an empty side of the bed. You huffed, not wanting to get up. But the new smell of bacon and coffee was slowly starting to convince you more and more. Your stomach growled loudly. Fine, I’ll fucking get up. The moment you sat up, you felt your headache intensify. Clutching your head you got up from the bed and went straight to the kitchen. Walking in you saw Bucky flipping some pancakes.

“Mornin sleepin beauty,” he turned and smiled at you. You groaned again. Headache getting worse by the minute.

“So how was last night?” He asked while setting a plate of bacon in front of you.

“It was uh, good? I mean it was girls night so…” You trailed off. You stopped mid bite when you saw your boyfriend’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“How much did you drink last night?” Another smirk played on his lips. Oh how you wanted to wipe that smirk off.

“Why? What did I do this time?” You set the piece of bacon down, ready to receive whatever was coming at you now.

“Oh nothing much. Just some laughs and giggles, and the fact that you threw a fucking cake at me!” Your jaw dropped.

“I what now?” That was something you weren’t expecting in the slightest. He shook his head in confirmation.

“Yup, the cake that was for today. The one you baked for your friend for her party.” You face palmed. Motherfucker.

“Bucky I am sooo sorry I threw the cake at you. And now I have to run to the store to get more stuff so I can make another one before she -” Bucky pulls out an exact replica of the cake you baked just the other day. “But didn’t you say?”

“I baked a new one. I felt bad that all your hard work didn’t really pay off so well. Especially for me,” he chuckled. You got out of your seat and wrapped him in a hug. Headache long forgotten.

“You know you didn’t have to,” you looked up into those sparkling blue eyes of his, “but thank you.” Man did you have the sweetest boyfriend.

Tags: @agentpeggybarnes @katbtracy @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @dianadov @writing-for-hours-on-end @theladyoffangorn @agentpeggybarnesfanfics @geosaurusrrex

#seasaur’s2kmilestone #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #captain america the winter soldier

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 4 years

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How would the Reapers (let’s just say William, Grell, and Undertaker just to give you some but if you wanna do different ones that’s fine) react to meeting someone from a different dimension? I don’t remember where but I think Grell suggested one that scythe could cut through anything, even dimension(either that or I’m going insane) but what if say a rookie reaper messed up and “summoned” someone from this world? How would they fix it? Would they even want to considering what info we have?

you say ‘rookie Reaper’ but the image of a death scythe literally tearing through the fabric of dimensions as an oopsie has Grell fuckin Sutcliff written all over it

that said, in this situation, I, uh, I think I’d feel safest with Grell as opposed to either of the other two hdkjfdlajfla

GRELL

Well, well, well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events? They’ll say one thing about working in this office, despite William’s attempts to ensure otherwise, it’s never boring! Immediately they’re all over the new person, being incredibly handsy as they check out (Name)’s hair, clothing, makeup, shoes, accessories… Grell has to be on top of these things! More than anyone else, Grell just wants to keep them here because they want a leg up on all the fashion fads from a different future. This could make them a trendsetter! On the whole, Grell is pretty unconcerned about getting this person back where they belong. That sounds like a job for Will.

WILLIAM

Oh, Lord. He can practically taste the paperwork coming with this, and it tastes like a week-long migraine. Wonderful. Sorting this out isn’t what he wanted to do today, but thanks to someone’s screw-up, it appears that’s what he’ll be doing. When (Name) mentions something about knowing what’s going to happen in this world, though ― that the world the Reapers live in is a story for entertainment in their dimension ― he has mixed feelings. If they know things that are going to happen, that could give the Reapers a leg up against creatures like demons and angels. Hm. It’s a good thing he’s free this weekend, because it appears this dimension-hopper and he will be going to see William’s superiors.

UNDERTAKER

Hee-hee-hee-heeeeee, talk about a first-rate laugh!! Now this is funny! This is one of the most hilarious things he’s ever seen in his life, and he’s old as bloody dirt! Maybe when he finds the unlucky Reaper whose fault this is, he’ll have to thank them. In the meantime, he has no sense of personal space as far as (Name) is concerned, taking in every detail about them that he sees. It makes him wonder, it really does… if they’re to be believed about their dimension containing Reapers as a story concept, that means they have a lot of information. And information is valuable. Perhaps he’ll have to buy some information off of them… in exchange for a few of his best jokes, of course!

#judyfromfinance #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Grell #William #Undertaker #reaction #platonic #drama #humor #OH WHAT A WORLD #queued

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

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Chelle. One last request before I'm going to sleep bcs of headaches lol. Soo...uh swimmer Jaebum? Or target shooting Jaebum. Heeeeee thankyou queenn!

I almost replied saying no because I read that as swimmer Jinyoung and target shooting Jinyoung and you know I have ideas for both of those already for stories haha! Silly me, it says Jaebum. So of course, I wrote swimmer JB because I hate us all XD

I’m exhausted and have a headache too so I hope you rest up well!

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Word count: 367

______________________

You stood at the other end of the pool, watching as his arms cut through the water at a speed that almost seemed unfathomable. He was swimming away from you right now and it didn’t take long for Jaebum to reach the wall of the pool, kicking off of it effortlessly as he flipped around to swim back in your direction. Everything about his movements in the water screamed powerful.

And yet, he was still not fast enough.

“Really?!” he gasped, his eyes growing dark when he lifted his goggles up onto his capped head. You showed him the time on the stopwatch miserably. You were certain he was going to beat his record with that swim.

Over the next few weeks, you kept trying every day to beat the clock. And every day he got closer, yet further from his goal. Jaebum put his everything into it, gliding through the water and then pounding it in frustration when he didn’t get there. He was going to get off his game if he kept focusing on it like this.

Jaebum needed a break.

Today, you didn’t stand at the end of the pool with the timer in your hand. Instead, when Jaebum arrived for his early morning swim, he frowned at not finding you in your usual spot. He slipped into the water and came over to your side. And right as he was almost there, you moved off quickly, swimming away from him and stopping in another part of the pool. At first, he rolled his eyes and almost looked like he would give up.

But there was something challenging about your gaze and he started to try harder, perfecting the swing of his arms through the water as he barrelled along towards you.

And eventually, he caught you, both of you breathless from the play. “How do you feel about capturing your target?”

He leaned down and kissed you, surprising you with his bold move. You almost pushed away since you were supposed to be coaching the swimming superstar, not kissing him. But his lips felt too good against yours and you let him kiss you just a little bit longer.

Jaebum smirked. “Better now.”

______________________

My requests and ask box are open for this week’s Chelle Chats!

#im jaebum #jaebum #got7 #got7 drabbles #jaebum drabbles #kpop #kpop drabbles #chellechats #pwyl; saturday drabbles #prettywordsyouleft writes

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birth-fic-lover · 5 years

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The wizard and his assistant, alternative ending

An alternative ending to the wizard and his assistant. What if Flora didn't return to Rupert's manor on her own? It had been 6 months since Flora had left the manor, 6 months since she realised Rupert would never be ready to be a farther. But she didn't have time for him to be ready anymore, she had suspected after not receiving her monthly bleed that she would be a mother by the end of autumn. After she ran away her belly began to grow proving she had been correct, she had hoped to return to her family to raise the child. But soon after she had returned to them, her family had got passage to another kingdom. At first she had hoped to get work in a tavern, but she had already began to show. No landlord could risk hiring someone so obviously fertile in these unsure times. So she had been forced onto the streets, but soon she got desperate. She had 2 choices, return to the manor asking for gold from Rupert as he is the father. Or make a life in the forest, she had chosen the latter. It was a dangerous life, many hunted pregnant women down to breed them. She had to always be vigilant. The child she was carrying was constantly moving this morning, she had not been able too keep track of the months. But she hoped that when it was time, her body would guide her. She slept in a hammock that a kind stranger had gave her, unfortunately he offered her nothing else. As she aloud herself a minute longer of rest, she caressed her belly. She hoped she could give this little one a good life, she knew once she had birthed the child she would be able to find work. But till then it would be a life on the run. She had made a routine of always being on the move, so that the hunters could not find her. Her hair had become greasy, there was a limit of how clean you could be from washing in rivers. She only had one dress and one cloak, as her child had grown she had become thinner. So the dress still fit her just, but it was well worn with overuse and constantly being river washed. She packed her hammock away and started to move again on foot, her body had been aching for months but a walk always helped. But this morning felt different, the aches were not in her back or legs. But it wrapped it's self around where her child was residing, she knew that she should find somewhere like a cave next. That way it was tucked away if she needed to stay in the same place more then one night, she planned to not to be in the open when she was birthing her child. She knew the exact place, she had camped there a month earlier. It had a cave with one entrance, that way no one could sneak in. It had a small hole in the ceiling at the back of the cave, perfect for smoke to escape if she lit a fire. And lastly it had a river outside the cave, good for washing and even if she felt brave enough, birthing in. She knew that it was a days walk so she had not much time, but she felt no contractions. But as her child stirred within her, she felt they were running out of space. She kept an eye out for hunters, her full term belly was so prominent she would be seen from a long distance. She arrived at the cave at sunset, and set about gathering kindling and creating a fire in the cave. She was so tired and weak, she hasn't eaten a proper meal for weeks. She lay on the cold stone next to the fire, her cloak she used as a blanket. The next morning she awoke to a tightening sensation, she knew her baby was coming today. Took a deep breath and stayed calm, she longed for a bath like she had at the manor. She knew the healing property's of water, but Rupert was able to add things to heal even the worst pain. As well as create an arousing experience, but she didn't want to think of her husband now. She slide her clothes off and decided to wash on the deep river, the water instantly helped. "That's it baby, we are going to get though this together", and she floated on her back. But then she herd voices, she lowered her body underwater. She hoped that with just half her head above the waterline the men wouldn't notice her, luckily they only glanced at the river

Before heading into the cave. They must have seen the fire pit from last night, as another contraction seized her she seized the opportunity to escape. She grabbed her clothes and quickly put her dress on, not bothering with anything else. She started moving, she would come back for her belongings later.

She started to move as quickly and as silently as she could, she hadn't let this child slow her down in the past nine months and was not about to start now. Flora could feel her baby was low ready for when the time came and her contractions kept coming back stronger each time, she had to not attract the hunters. She hoped they weren’t tracking her, that they had moved on or was waiting for her to return.

Her contractions were building, she needed to find a place to birth soon. She feared that once she got the urge to push she wouldn’t be able to move much further. Each time she felt her belly being tighten it was a reminded that time was running out, she needed another cave or somewhere out of the way. But all she saw was trees, she stood looking around for something when a painful contraction almost made her loose her footing.

But she steadied herself, “just a little longer little one, please you can wait I bet you can”. She kept moving, hunger was mixing with pain but she kept walking. She didn’t know where she was heading but she had to get away from those hunters, she wouldn’t stop until she found another safe place. But things became more desperate as she felt a trickle down her legs, her water had broke.

The baby was truly on it’s way, she needed to focus on finding another cave or somewhere else she could hide. She noticed without the fluid her belly had dropped, also the pain had increased. It wasn’t long till she felt her first urge to push, she would just have to try and ignore it.

She resisted the urge to push as she kept moving, her belly was low and she could feel her contractions getting stronger. As she moved she held her belly trying to stop the child from moving any further down her birth canal, she had to stop eventually the pain making her dizzy.

She leaned against a tree, everything within her wanted her to squat. But she knew that would lead to pushing, she needed this child to stay inside till it was safe. So instead she kept leaning against the tree as she held her swollen belly, breathing slowly through the pain. “Heeeeee hoooooo heeeee hoooooo heeeoooooohhhh, ohhhhhh ohhhhhh”, her breathing turned into moans as her contractions went up another level.

Her body was forcing the child forward, her body and mother nature knew what she had to do. But she still tried to fight it, she herd the sound of men talking in the distance. Flora moved through the woods as fast as she could her heart racing, rain started to fall stinging the exposed parts of her skin. The desire to keep her child safe kept her moving, that is all she had wanted from day one. That is why she had left the safety of Rupert’s home, and now she had to narrowly avoiding being caught. She wished things were not so desperate, she wished she had never fallen in love and married Rupert, she wished that she didn’t know in her heart that he was a good man.

She knew that right now she should be with him, she needed to go to him. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to contain the child till she got there. Her body was forcing the child out anyway, so she might as well try and get the child out as quickly as she could. Flora grit her teeth, and bore down with everything she had. Pain coursed through her as she felt the child shift downward at a speed, now that she was letting her child be born she knew she would have the child in her arms soon.

But it seemed as she had been pushing the hunters had spotted her, they were coming. Flora knew that she was too weak to run, not with her child so close to crowning. She had to think of a way, there was only one thing she could say. “Do you know who’s child I am carrying? The wizard’s, so I wouldn’t hurt me if I were you”.

The leader laughed, “I doubt that very much, even if you were the woman that wizard was looking for he never said she was pregnant with his child.”

Flora couldn’t believe it “he’s been looking for me?”

“The wizard has been searching for his wife, but he never said she was with child. Anyhow if you were her, I doubt he would let his child be born in a forest.”

“Well why don’t we bring her to him” another man said “I am sure that he will pay us handsomely to bring him someone who is going around pretending to be his wife.”

Flora thought she would faint if she was made to walk all the way to Rupert's manor, but to her surprise one of the men brought out a poster with her description. It seems he had enchanted them so that if you found his wife you could be transported, the man said to the poster. “I have found her” and everyone suddenly was transported to outside the manor.

“Hooooooo” Flora moaned as a contraction hit her hard, she had to fight her body hard not to push.

Rupert came to the door sensing one of his enchanted posters had been activated, as soon as he saw Flora he ran to her and dropped to his knees. “Flora” he whispered “you came back”.

“We want paying” said the leader and without taking his eyes away he waved his hand and they disappeared.

“They are notorious woman hunters, I have locked them away in my dungeon until the king deals with them. But what were they doing..”, then he locks eyes on her belly. Flora could she the surprise in his eyes, he genuinely had no idea she was pregnant. But how could he, she never told him before she left. But unlike Flora expected, he didn’t look sad or scared.

“Ohhhh ohhhh” Flora moaned and grabbed her belly, she needed to push. She sits on the floor and widens her legs, giving another push.

“This is happening right now?”, then Rupert transports them to his chamber into the bed. He holds Flora while she is pushing, it’s like no time has passed and she knew she was where she belonged.

“Ohhhh I’m sorry, I was so scared.” Flora tried to explain.

“Shhh shhh, it’s okay. I am so sorry, I didn’t know you were already pregnant. I want to be a father and be with you”.

“I love you, ohhhhhh” she felt the child starting to emerge, she could see how much he cared for the child already. He had his hands on the belly and she could see the amazement in his eyes.

Flora gave a huge push and the head slipped further out, she could feel herself stretching. She didn’t wait for another contraction, she just went for it and could feel the head was now fully out.

Rupert moved so he was now between her legs ready to receive the child, Flora took a deep breath and pushed hard until in a sudden rush the baby fell into his hands. A squawking cry fills the room and Rupert hands her the baby, Flora couldn’t believe she had just given birth.

Rupert cut the cord and came and sat next to his wife, “well done, you have a little boy. If you would let me into his life I would love that, but I understand if not”.

“He is our little boy, I should of never of left”. They cuddled on the bed as they waited for the afterbirth to come, Rupert looked down at his little family with pride. He had missed his little maid so much, he had missed seeing her full with child. He looked at her and knew that there would be another child on the way real soon, he vowed to himself this he would make sure it was the most relaxing pregnancy ever.

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sassycassie-s-writing · 6 years

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Red Ruby

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam: Tim Drake/Red Robin, feat. the BatFam

Rating: PG-11 (violence and gore)

Original Idea: This one’s been floating around in my head for a while, IDK.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) WooHoo! Exactly 2,200 words! Also shoutout to @batboys-and-other-messes whose enthusiasm for the possible existence of this inspired me to finish writing it. And for her superhero name.

^^^^^

"Red Ruby! I need your help right now!" Tim's voice shouts in your comms.

"This was a mistake," you mutter under your breath, dodging an explosion. "Who decided raiding the League of Assassin's compound was a good idea?" You say that louder, intending it to be heard by everyone on your comms.

Your question is followed by silence. It's a rhetorical question anyway---because the answer is It was Batman's idea---but you can feel the awkward agreement seeping through your team that this was a very bad idea.

"Ruby! Now!" Tim pressed.

"I'm coming, nag, I'm coming!" you retort, doing a flip over a League assassin's back and smacking him in the face with your staff so hard that he blacks out. "Where are you anyway?!"

"Third floor. Northeast corner," Tim says. "And get here fast!"

"Going as fast as I can!" You're grateful you're already on the third floor.

You look out a window as you run past. The sun. It's early morning so the sun is rising. In the east. Once you know which way is east from inside, you head north.

"Ruby!" Tim shouts. This time you hear him through the air, not your earpiece.

"Shut up, Red, I'm almost to you!" you snap.

There's a crash and a League assassin gets thrown through a closed door after a battle grunt ("Heeeeee-YAH!") that you recognize as Tim's.

You strike the assassin with your staff to knock him out too and jump through the splintered door, sliding on the wooden floor. "What's so important that you needed my help? You had that guy handled," you point out before the dust settles enough for you to even see Tim.

Once you do, your frustration falters.

"Oh."

Tim is beaten up bad. He's got a black eye the size of a large orange on his right eye. The left side of his lower lip is split, dribbling down his chin. His cowl's been torn off and his back-up mask is scratched. His hair's a mess and he looks like he's been through a hurricane.

But that's not the worst part, upon further inspection.

The room isn't a training room. Or the living quarters for some number of assassins.

It's a nursery. With a crib in the corner. The crib's railing has been broken.

It's empty, but the child it belongs to is being held securely in Tim's arm. It's wrapped tightly in a pale cream blanket. Tim's keeping its face to his chest so the baby can't see what's happening. His staff is held loosely in his other hand. He's panting and exhausted, but the baby appears to be either sleeping or at least docile.

You blink in surprise. "Um… Baby," you state, referring to the tiny human your boyfriend is holding, not a term of endearment for the boyfriend himself.

Tim nods in sarcastically enthusiastic agreement. "Yeah."

"What are you two talking about?" Damian demands impatiently in your earpieces.

"Not sure yet," you say, muting your microphone. Tim does the same. He spins his staff back into a strap across his back and approaches you.

"We can't just leave it here to be raised like Damian," Tim says quietly, even though his family can't hear either of you at the moment. He relaxes his hold on the baby just enough that it's no longer facing his chest, instead turned toward the ceiling.

The baby is adorable. But more than that, it's beautiful. It has the same smooth Arabic features and soft brown skin that Damian has and silky, glossy black hair poking out from under its swaddling blanket. It's asleep. You don't reach out for the baby. You feel conflicted. "Well… do you want us to raise it?"

Tim shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet, babe. But we have to take it somewhere safe."

You nod. "I agree. Let's get it to the jet."

Tim takes his staff out of the strap and passes it to you. "Cover us, okay? I trust you to fight more than I trust me to not worry about if you held the baby."

You take his staff. You've dual-wielded staffs before, but it's not easy. They are too long to use two at the same time unless you have to.

"I'll tell the others as we get out," he says. You nod.

Both of you turn your microphones back on. "Red Ruby and Red Robin, on our way out," you say.

"What? You're leaving the compound? What for?" Dick demands.

"I found a baby," Tim answers. "We're getting it out of here. Taking it to the jet."

"A… baby?" Damian asks as you spin your own staff to whack an assassin in the neck. "Like, an actual human child?"

"Yup. It's adorable and innocent. And it might look like you if you weren't so ugly," Tim retorts, ducking under a throwing star that you hadn't managed to knock out of the air. You hear Jason start laughing. He's somewhere near because you hear it outside your earpiece too.

"Boys, not now," Dick says.

"Red Ruby, Red Robin, get to the jet," Batman orders. "We'll finish up here and rendezvous with you there."

"Yes sir," you and Tim chorus at the same time.

It's easier to get out of the League of Assassin's compound than it was to get in. Not surprising, since going in you all tried not to trip any alarms. Going out, all the alarms have already been tripped so who cares?

You cover Tim and the baby the whole way out. At one point the baby wakes up. It doesn't cry. Doesn't babble. Doesn't do anything except stare at Tim in silence with wide black eyes.

You two slide into the jet and close the doors. You put Tim's staff in his strap on his back and put your staff in your strap.

Tim raises his eyebrows. "You want to hold the baby?" he asks.

You hesitate, unsure.

"Rephrase: would you hold the baby for a few minutes while I get the jet started? I need two hands," Tim amends.

You accept the tiny child into your arms. It stares at you. Almost curiously. Tim busies himself around the jet's cockpit.

"Red Hood to the jet! I'm comin' in!" Jason shouts in your earpieces. You manage to get the door open in time for your boyfriend's brother to do a baseball slide into the jet. Once he's in you close the door again.

Jason pops his helmet off and surveys you and Tim. "Timothy, you look like h#%& man," he says.

"Thanks Jay," Tim deadpans.

Before Jason can get to complimenting or criticizing how you look coming out of a fight with a league of assassins, he notices the baby in your arms.

His face softens immediately. "Can I hold it?" he asks, big bulky tank of a man instantly turning to a puddle of mush. You snicker and hand the baby to Jason. He coos at it and gently tucks it against his chest. You go over to Tim and kiss his black eye gently.

"You okay, Tim?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Fine. Nothing a hot shower, half-a-dozen painkillers, a cup of something hot, and a good night's sleep won't fix."

"I hope you're joking about the painkillers," Jason says distractedly. "You do not need six."

"I was joking, idiot," Tim retorts.

"Nightwing, Robin, Batman, and Batgirl coming in!" Dick calls. "Get the jet ready for takeoff!"

"We're ready! Waiting on you!" Tim replies, dropping into the pilot's seat and taking the controls. You run over to the door and yank it open.

Dick, Damian, Bruce, and Cassie all drop through the door one-by-one like they were all airborne before reaching the plane. Which, you reason, they probably were. You shove the door closed. "Strap in!" Tim calls.

Bruce falls into the co-pilot's seat while the rest of you all find passenger seats and strap in.

Takeoff is rough. The baby starts to cry from the changing pressure as Jason struggles to soothe it. He refuses to hand it to anyone else despite Dick's pleading ("It's so adorable! Please?") and Damian's threats ("It may very well be a half-sibling of mine, hand it over Todd!").

Once the plane is in the air and stable, Tim gives Bruce the pilot's seat and comes back into the passenger hold. He takes the baby from Jason's arms without asking and sits next to you. The baby stops crying the second it sees him. Tim pulls his scratched-up mask off his face and smiles down at the baby. "It's okay, kiddo. We're going to take good care of you," he promises. The baby smiles.

^^^^^

"Zahra, come on! You're going to be late!" you call upstairs. Your husband chuckles.

"She's been ready for a half-hour, babe," he says. "I think she's just nervous."

"Honey?" you call. "Zahra? You hungry?"

That always works.

Your adopted daughter thunders down the stairs and careens into the kitchen on six-year-old legs not quite coordinated enough for her speed. "Yum-yum!" she exclaims.

You pass her a plate with some waffles on it that's been drowned in syrup and whipped cream.

"Mmmmm!" she says happily, black eyes widening in delight before beginning to devour it.

Tim wraps his arm around your waist. "By the way," he says, "I'm pretty sure everyone is coming to walk her to school today."

"Seriously? Everyone?" you ask quietly.

"Well so far only Jason and Damian have RSVP'd but you know Dick, and Bruce isn't likely to miss his granddaughter's first day of first-grade, is he?" Tim replies, planting a kiss on your cheek. Zahra makes a face of disgust. Tim snickers. "And neither is Alfred. Cassie may or may not turn up, depending on where she is on the planet and how busy she is."

"Wow," you say, unsure of what else you can say. The whole family walking one six-year-old girl to school. That was going to be a sight.

As if on cue, you hear, KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

Zahra jumps off her stool and runs to the door. "I'LL GET IT!" she screams.

You and Tim follow slower, your husband's arm still around your waist.

The front door flies open. "UNCLE JAY!" Zahra shouts.

"Zahra! Sweetheart! How's my favorite six-year-old niece?" your brother-in-law asks, scooping Zahra up and tickling her belly while she squeals.

"Jay---I'm your only six-year-old niece," she complains as her uncle drowns her in kisses.

Jason looks over her shoulder at you and Tim. "Already as smart as both her parents, I see," he says matter-of-factly. Tim shrugs with a proud smile.

You and he go back to the kitchen, Jason carrying Zahra trailing behind. Tim keeps a hand on you as you two work around each other for breakfast, the way you've always done. The X of your spare staffs hanging on the wall glints in the morning sunlight. Jason sits next to Zahra at the breakfast bar and talks to her while you and Tim quietly fawn over each other.

Sure enough, the entire family shows up to walk Zahra to school. Except Cassie since she is, apparently, in France for the next couple weeks. You all walk your daughter to school---her soaking up the attention like a tiny sprout seeing sunlight for the first time---and wave as she goes in. "Bye Mama! Bye Daddy! Bye Uncle Dick! Bye Uncle Jay! Bye Uncle Damian! Bye Grampa Bruce! Bye Grampa Alfred!"

Yeah… you definitely got some looks from the other parents. Not that any of you mind.

Back home, you and Tim cuddle on the sofa, taking a break and confused as to what to do without Zahra in the house.

Tim leans his head on your shoulder. "I have never been happier in my entire life," he says. "In this moment. Right here. With you. Knowing our daughter is at school and enjoying every second of it." You put your head on top of his, feeling his hand on the back of your scalp playing with your hair. "I love you. And I've never believed in any decision I've made more than I believe in marrying you and adopting Zahra."

"Mm," you agree with a smile. "I'm happy too." You snuggle closer to his chest and curl up against him. He holds you closer. "I don't think I ever imagined my life would feel this good. Especially when every one of you told me that putting on a mask and a costume meant my life was destined for pain."

"But Red Ruby and Red Robin ended up okay, yeah?" Tim prompts cheekily, a grin in his voice.

"Oh yeah." You lean up and kiss him. He kisses you back. "Red Robin and Red Ruby ended up better than okay."

The two of you hold each other for a few moments of rare silence.

"So… what now?" Tim asks. "What do we do without Zahra?"

You chuckle, realizing everything your parents ever told you about parents not knowing what to do without their children is entirely true. "Well, for now we could work on giving Zahra a little brother or sister," you say.

Tim smirks. "That sounds like a great idea."

#Red Ruby #Tim Drake #Tim Drake Imagine #Tim Drake FanFiction #Red Robin #Red Robin Imagine #Red Robin FanFiction #DC #DC Imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #BatFam Imagine #BatFam FanFiction

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demyrie · 6 years

Text

Hanakotoba (Camelias are for Longing)

Summary: Three (two) mischievous teachers have some questions about a certain Symbol of Peace and his old arch-nemesis, the reformed "Nature’s Revenge” villain Mandrake. So how did this turn into a discussion about the secret language of flowers?

Tags: oneshot, OTeach3 goodness, flustered Toshinori, mention of sex, implications that there are MHA in-world hero fanzines with dirty content because there fucking are, vague one-sided All Might/OC reference, light Erasermight because I have no self-control, random flowershop AU nod

Notes: I love the superhero genre really I do, including steamy archenemy chemistry. This came out of ... so many things, but mostly a need to embarrass Toshinori and have the OTeach3 fangirl/fanboy out. Enjoy.

Yagi Toshinori was finally, finally getting into the swing of teaching. He no longer became lost in UA's labyrinthine hallways and had committed to a briefcase for his materials, which 13 had courteously alphabetized with charming space-themed dividers. He even took his lunch break every day and the relentlessness of education – most of all the sense there was always something to be catching up on or looking over to better his students' experiences – left him so little time to truly worry or think about his old life that it almost seemed as if he had left the hyper-vigilance and cutthroat instincts of All Might in the past.

That is, until he entered the staffroom one afternoon and a very particular threesome of heroes instantly fell silent and turned to face him and the fine hair on his arms rose in definite warning.

Supremely startled, Toshinori gave Kayama, Yamada and Aizawa a halting smile before ducking his head and heading in, their joint gaze drilling into his back all the while. The terrible three let him get as far as the counter and the electric kettle: As soon as he had filled the kettle for tea and turned it on, there was a stifled rustle and somebody ostentatiously cleared their throat.

“Heyyyy, so, Yagi-san! My man!”

Yamada-san, of course. The frontman for their less savory ideas.

“How can I help you, Yamada-san?” he asked unsurely, still not quite willing to turn around, and so busied himself with righting the tea box. The kettle creaked to life far too slowly. Escape was not an option.

“Psh, I told you to call me Mic!” came the rejoinder, brash and indulgent. With a creak of leather that implied he was leaning back or settling in, 'Mic' continued, tone almost wheedling. “I mean, you've been with us long enough, you're part of the UA family! In fact, All Might, big guy, I feel like we're really close now. Aren't we? I feel like we are.”

“Stop,” Aizawa's deep voice cut in, almost making Toshinori jump. Something was strange about the command, but was Aizawa really that opposed to him fitting in?

“I'm, ah … maybe?” Toshinori mumbled as he turned around, unable to delay it any longer in the name of politeness. Even as he knew it was coming, the sight of the three of them arranged around the staffroom table and watching him unblinkingly made him tense down to his toes and feel like he was stepping into a network of boobytraps. Human boobytraps. Confirming his fears, Mic tilted his head, grinning.

“Soooo can I ask you something?”

“Don't do it,” Aizawa said loudly, unmoving behind his battered UA laptop. Mic ignored him, instead knocking his green glasses down his nose with roguish panache.

“Be honest with me, big guy. Did you and Mandrake ever get it on?”

“Did Mandrake and I – pardon me?” Toshinori gasped, mouth falling open. If he had been holding a mug, he would have dropped it.

They erupted into peals of laughter – or Kayama and Mic did, shoving and slapping at each other, while Aizawa shook his head and glared determinedly at his laptop screen, resuming his typing with clear annoyance.

“That means no,” Mic snorted when he found the breath, a hand to his face.

“Or only once, in a fit of long-buried passion only freed by battle!” Midnight screamed, holding a finger underneath her nose as if to abort a nosebleed and stamping her heels underneath the table in glee.

“You guys,” Aizawa sighed so deeply he threatened to deflate on the spot, leaving the older hero looking between them all open-mouthed with a pounding heart. He was missing something – he had to be – and couldn't put the pieces together. Was this new slang, or a joke? What connection could be made between one of his first arch-nemeses and sex?

“What? I'm afraid I don't understand. This was in order … to … defeat him?” Toshinori eked out, a hand to his (apparently weak) heart.

At that, Mic started laughing so hard Aizawa had to Erase him briefly or risk losing the entirety of the faculty lounge mug collection, the lift of his tangled hair as lackluster as the glare Eraserhead was fixing him with.

“Oooh! Is that how you did it, during that showdown in the thunderstorm?” Midnight cooed, giving a saucy wink. She wiggled in her chair. “We always wondered. The broadcast went dark, after all.”

“No!” Toshinori yelped as the heat rose in his neck, threatening to choke him even more than these preposterous theories. He shook his head, bangs wagging frantically. “No, please, why are we talking about Mandrake like this? He's reformed, you know, and a very valuable member of the League!”

“Yeah, which means you saw his potential even then, right?” Mic wheezed, patting his throat with a glance at his best friend, like a promise not to go supersonic again. Then he sighed, pillowing his cheek on his fist. “Dude, even I gotta admit, when you guys were enemies? Before you were frenemies? You had this vibe. All the staring. All the sweaty battles and the weird, possessive pride he took in being your rival and the way you kept swearing to bring him to justice with your own two hands.”

Toshinori waited for something further to clarify the string of technically objective statements, heinously lost. Mic shrugged.

“Like, you were clearly banging.”

“But we weren't,” Toshinori protested, little more than a rasp.

“What Mic is saying is that there was tension there. And it was kinda horny,” Kayama said evenly with a pass of her tongue over her lips, blue eyes gleaming. Aghast and frozen, Toshinori looked to Aizawa, who he could count on to be objective if nothing else. To his despair, the Erasing hero shrugged.

“Above average levels of horny,” he mumbled, continuing to type.

“I mean, that was pretty much the whole Golden Age arch nemesis vibe if I'm gonna be honest,” Midnight said with a throaty sigh, leaning back. “Like, soooooo much could have been solved if you'd just dropped trow.”

“She has some X-rated fanzines from academy if you want a step by step,” Mic snickered, earning himself a fond and entirely proud whack on the shoulder from the pervert in question.

“I ...” Toshinori said into his hand, singularly mortified. “O-oh my.”

“Please ignore my sex-obsessed idiots,” Aizawa said just loudly enough to be heard over his friends demented snickering. “They haven't been outside today and it's clearly warping their minds.”

“I haven't been outside in weeks,” Mic boasted, turning a gleaming insane grin toward Toshinori. “It's finals!”

“You can breathe, Yagi-san, you know we're just teasing you,” Midnight assured him after a moment, clearly trying to put him at ease. “We all know things were still a little rough back then and everyone had their little tensions and melodramas. We just thought, since we had the source right here, we could put a silly rumor to rest and –”

But Toshinori had a hand over his eyes and was frozen against the counter, towering body as stiff as a board. Midnight tilted her head.

“Um, Yagi-san?”

“I'm just … thinking ...” he began hoarsely. He dropped the concealing hand and took a deep breath and realized, self-consciously clutching his arm, that the entire table was looking up at him with wide eyes. Even Aizawa, and that was saying something.

“After Mandrake reformed and we had our first meeting as the League, at Tokyo hall, he … well, he sent me a gift. Personally.”

“And?” Midnight gasped, a hand to her chest. Mic grabbed her elbow, leaning in and nodding vigorously.

“And he asked me to see him as more than an ally,” he finished very quietly. There was a beat where the staffroom was profoundly silent, the only sound the labored hissing of the electric kettle.

“Did heeeeee ask you to see him as a brother? Maybe?” Mic offered somewhat hopelessly, wincing.

“No,” Toshinori mumbled, feeling his neck warm horribly again. “Just more than.”

“And you thought that was him being honorable and polite,” Aizawa said flatly, clearly extremely disappointed in him.

“It was both honorable and polite, what else was I supposed to think?” Toshinori protested, long fingers tangling desperately with his tie. “Our history as rivals was all the news outlets were talking about at the time and I-I didn't have any context!”

“Well, what was the gift?” Mic asked. “That should have given you some context, huh?”

“It was …” Toshinori paused, and excruciatingly so. Seeing the three of them lean forward, eyes widening even further, Toshinori ducked into his hand again. “A very tasteful flower arrangement.”

It was a curious thing, to hear three people gasp in unison and with such a sense of outrage.

“I had just moved in to a new agency, so I thought ...” he began reedily, knowing how idiotic it sounded even as it left his mouth.

“What kind of flowers?”

Now it was everyone's turn to stare and blink at Midnight, who frowned at him and flipped her silky hair over her shoulder.

“A former villain with a Quirk that controls and creates plant life, who once made Tokyo tower into an absolutely gorgeous trellis during one of his attempts to take over the city, and you didn't think to look for hanakotoba?”

“I thought they were very nice,” was all Toshinori could offer, to the raucous groaning of the assembled heroes and, apparently, the sole retainers of common sense. It was clear that none of them were going to let him walk out of the staff room without entirely embarrassing himself – even Aizawa was committed at this point, possibly through spite alone – so Toshinori grimaced and thought back.

“It was … mostly white and red and yellow. Very densely petaled white flowers, so, camelia I think? Also bigger ones, with thick white splayed petals, possibly gardenias. There were red carnations, forget-me-nots ... daffodils. Oh, and one giant sunflower.”

He listed them off with a frown, plundering the very shallow depths of his horticultural know-how and the distant memory that had previously been a blip on his radar in terms of potential love confessions. Luckily, they were all relatively common flowers even if the arrangement itself was bursting with professional skill. It had been beautiful, he realized with a surge of regret, and thoughtful and Mandrake had been very odd about delivering it. Personally. With minimal eye-contact or explanation. He cleared his throat.

“That's it. The wrapping was blue, too, so I thought it very kind that he'd, er, matched my color scheme.”

For a moment, Midnight just looked up at him. And looked. And looked. And then slowly, delicately put a hand to her head and sighed.

“So. Starting with the least suspicious of the bunch, daffodils mean deep respect. So that's nice.”

The predatory look on her face indicated that 'nice' was a horrendous understatement for what was to follow. She ticked them off on her perfectly manicured fingers with a widening cheshire grin.

“Carnations could be fascination or love depending on the color, but if they were red, that's no question. Gardenias mean secret love. Forget-me-nots are for true love. Sunflowers are for passionate love and radiance. And camelias mean –”

“Longing,” Aizawa finished sourly, glaring up at the older hero as if personally affronted.

“Dude?” Mic whispered, staring at his best friend like he was dreaming. Aizawa, caught, snorted and forcibly returned to his work.

“You know my parents are florists,” he muttered, looking a little angry that the buried knowledge had escaped him in front of his friends. Mic cackled obnoxiously then seemed to catch up on all of the righteous indignation that he should have been feeling, abruptly cutting himself off and whirling to look at Toshinori with an open mouth.

“It was a love confession! Mandrake went out on a limb for you, Yagi-san! A rickety, be-flowered tree limb of secret love!” he exclaimed, deeply offended and deeply loud. He covered his mouth just for effect. “I bet you didn't even text him back, you cad.”

“Actually, we didn't have texting at the time, so ...” Toshinori shook his head and refocused on the unfortunate conversation and the even less fortunate truth. He sighed heavily, brow furrowed. “Oh my. I genuinely thought it was a peace offering of sorts. Considering.”

“The only peace he was offering was a piece of ass,” Aizawa snorted, apparently unable to keep himself out of the conversation. Midnight barked out a laugh and Toshinori coughed so sharply that bright red blood streaked his lips, hastily bending and yanking a worn handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Aizawa-kun, please!” he croaked through the cloth, mortified. Aizawa shrugged and Mic sat his chin on his hands again, pouting.

“Dude, you missed out. I bet he really loved you.”

“Oh shut up Mic, don't say such irresponsible things,” Midnight scolded him, smacking the back of his head.

Mic whined back and they devolved into familiar bickering over the best way to confess love or what obligations came with what kinds of confessions, including what kinds of confessions they had made in their youth and what they had really expected from it. Despite his friends wheedling, Aizawa's contributions were limited to refusing to indulge them on any further knowledge on the language of flowers and ordering them to get back to work and do something useful for once. The usual.

Somehow finding himself passed over as the center of attention, Toshinori quietly filled his mug with hot water, picked a teabag and made a hasty exit while they were distracted, frowning all the while.

“They feel bad for bringing it up.”

Toshinori looked up from where he sat on his customary lunch bench, blinking at the combination of direct sunlight and the unexpected shadow of Aizawa Shouta hanging over him.

He had just come outside for a little bit of fresh air and Aizawa's approaches were unrivaled in stealth, leaving him little room to react. Stunned, Toshinori didn't respond, or he didn't respond quickly enough, so his fellow instructor continued, regarding him with little patience over the crest of his coiled capture weapon.

“Mic and Nemuri. They feel bad for bringing up you and Mandrake.” When Toshinori still couldn't find anything to say, Aizawa sighed heavily, crossing his arms and glaring into the distance where the children milled around on the green, in the sun. “Because it's obvious that you're taking it hard and you're distracted. Upset.”

As little as he spoke, Aizawa was nothing if not observant: Toshinori was certainly distracted and he was certainly upset and he had no idea how to deal with either.

Tangling with such a delayed and important realization had consumed him over the past few days and showed no sign of slowing, especially when he thought about what the next step should be. He was lost in thoughts and regrets, trying without success to triangulate his and Mandrake's rocky relationship over the years and the battles: what it was, and what his now-comrade hoped it could have been. He felt paralyzed, mentally stuck in his doorway on that day and endlessly replaying how jaunty and utterly dismissive he must have seemed in taking the bouquet. The confession.

How could he have done such a thing? How could he not have known? It was all too much, but was it too late?

So, in keeping with his preceding uselessness, Toshinori just cleared his throat and tapped his long fingers together, looking askance. He hoped that Aizawa would give in to their general lack of accord and bad track record and consider his professional duty done with this short inquiry. Be on his way, and leave him to his guilt.

Then, of all things, Aizawa sighed again and took a seat next to him on the bench with peak reluctance, making the hair go up on the older heroes neck.

What, exactly, was happening? Did Kayama and Yamada send him to scold him back into shape again? It was too strange and too unprecedented and suddenly he hardly remembered how to breathe normally.

“How long ago was it?” the homeroom teacher asked, lacing his hands between his knees and staring out at the sun-soaked grass. Once again, as if the man had bound him in his carbon fiber reins, there was clearly no escape. Toshinori swallowed audibly, nudging his own knees closer together to make room.

“Eight … maybe nine years ago.” Toshinori sighed heavily and shook his head. “He did put himself out on a limb, and after we'd been through so much ... It must have taken a lot of courage. Regardless of how long it's been, I have an apology to make.”

“And what would you be apologizing for?” Aizawa asked. “For not knowing what he meant, or for not feeling the same way?”

Toshinori looked over at him, startled, and Aizawa boldly met his gaze, silent and expectant. It was probably the most words they had exchanged in their entire relationship and Toshinori was caught between the urge not to mess up and the urge to just run away, out from under this exacting man's eyes. And the question itself?

There was so much history between the two of them, it was hard to parse. There was the basic shame of not knowing what he meant, not understanding the gesture or the weight of it, true … but also the pervasive regret that he had personally let Mandrake down. Someone who had very strong feelings for him, and yet those feelings were unreturned. Mandrake was a good hero and a better man and Toshinori felt blindly guilty that he had disappointed him in such a personal and heartless way, so what was there to do but apologize?

“Both, I suppose,” he admitted, frowning down at his shoes.

At that, Aizawa shook his head impatiently.

“That's the problem with you. You'll take any excuse to feel guilty,” he snorted, the sheer derision in his tone making the older hero want to shrink into his oversized jacket. “It's no shame you weren't interested in him, but a decade later you're acting like it was a poor personal choice you made out of spite.”

It was all Toshinori could do to stare at him, skin chilling nonsensically. Aizawa continued, relentless.

“It's a useless apology, one that doesn't deserve the breath it would take to say it. The world isn't in your hands anymore, All Might, and sometimes misunderstandings happen. Especially when there are flowers involved, which is a poor substitute for actual communication,” he finished grimly, like he had a lifetime of flower drama stories locked away in his childhood. Then he shrugged, absently scratching at his unshaven chin.

“That's life and you have to let it go and move forward. Otherwise you'll drown in what you didn't do and be of no use to anyone, yourself included.”

Toshinori didn't know what to say to that, at first, as shock and offense and denial warred in him. Then it came to him, because it was really rather simple.

“Ah. Thank you, Aizawa-kun,” he said hesitantly. Smiled. “He's a good man and a good friend, but maybe it's a little too far along for these kinds of regrets. You ... I think you might be right.”

It wasn't exactly a revelation, after all. He could very well be a sentimental old fool prone to self-castigation for things he had no control over. Maybe.

Next to him, Aizawa snorted and quickly stood, their strange truce apparently over in an instant. Had his friends really sent him, or was this something he had chosen to do on his own? Toshinori really knew nothing about him. He watched in dual discomfort and curiosity as the younger hero paused to instill a few eyedrops and shake out his tangled mane, grimacing.

“Just stop brooding,” Aizawa said when he'd finished, replacing his eyedrops in his utility belt and shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to go. He glanced over his shoulder. “You're winding my idiots up and it doesn't fit your type.”

“Ah, am I encroaching on your edgy Underground style?” Toshinori called after him, chuckling, but Aizawa was already gone around the corner, leaving the Symbol of Peace sitting on a warm bench with nothing but the distant chatter of students and the breeze for company. Despite the scraped feeling of being scolded in such a way, he felt lighter already. Simpler.

Perhaps, instead of an apology, he would send Mandrake a flower arrangement. A very … platonic flower arrangement, full of respect and appreciation. Focus on what he could offer, instead of what he couldn't. He felt a faint heat in his face and hid a smile from no one in particular.

Maybe he would ask Aizawa for help in putting it together.

#erasermight #bnha #all might #toshinori yagi #boku no hero academia

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