Aizawa Oneshots and More

Pastries

HI GUYS HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY!!!!! I'm in the process of writing a valentine's special for our three boys so stay tuned :3 

This here is a request from Whispering_Bubbles on AO3!

"Prompt - young aizawa (around 19-22) works at a bakery shop owned by his grandmother. Everytime reader comes to buy at their shop, Aizawa always makes sure to add an extra (free of charge) pastry.

Additional info - Reader has this giant dog she brings along on her trips to the bakery. Well behaved giant 🤗"

I know it's a little short, but it's been a while since the request was given to me and I wanted to push it out before I forgot ^^; 

Anyways... go request more chapters and more bots from me! (staring u down so intently rn)

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The scent of fresh bread and warm cinnamon swirls in the air as you step into the little bakery tucked away on the corner of the street. The old bell above the door gives a soft chime, announcing your arrival – not that you need it.

Aizawa is already looking up from behind the counter, dark eyes flicking to yours before dropping to the massive ball of fluff at your side. Your dog, ever the gentle giant, and I mean giant, gives an eager thump of its tail against the wooden floor.

"You again," Aizawa murmurs, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face. He's always like this – soft-spoken, a little gruff, but never unkind. "You're going to eat us out of business at this rate."

Yet, even as he says that, you watch as he grabs an extra pastry, tucking it into the bag with your usual order. He always does that. Never charged you for it either, never said why.

You lean on the counter, smiling as your dog nudges Aizawa's knee with her nose, ever hopeful for attention. He sighs, reaching down to scratch behind her ear, fingers threading through thick fur.

"You spoil her," you tease, watching as your dog practically melts under his touch. "She's going to start liking you more than me."

"Tsk. Not my fault she has good taste."

You roll your eyes, handing over your payment, which he takes with a lazy efficiency that makes you wonder if he ever truly wakes up in the mornings. He moves on autopilot, but there's something comfortable about it – about him. He isn't the type to chat endlessly like his grandmother, who usually runs the place, but he always listens. Always notices the little things.

Like how you always come in around the same time each week, how you never seem to rush, how you sometimes hesitate before ordering like you're debating if you can afford the indulgence that day. Maybe that's why he always slipped in something extra. Maybe he'll never say it outright, but Aizawa is looking out for you in his own quiet way.

"You know," you say, watching as he packs up a fresh loaf for another customer, "I don't think I've ever actually seen you eat any of the stuff you bake."

He shrugs. "I get tired of it."

"That's a tragedy."

"You're dramatic."

You grin, holding up your bag of pastries. "Well, I appreciate it anyway. Extra treat included."

His gaze flickers to yours, something unreadable in his expression before he looks away. "Just take it before my grandma sees and scolds me for giving things away."

"She likes me, she wouldn't scold you."

"She'll find a way."

You laugh, shifting your bag to one hand while giving your dog's leash a light tug. "Alright, alright. See you next time, Aizawa."