Aizawa Oneshots

Laughter

HIII GUYS!!!! So, I've got some bad news (SOBS) my computer is dead! DEAD I TELL YOU!!! So that means my chapters will become a little more infrequent. I'm writing this on my tablet, and thank GAWD I had the money to buy a cute little keyboard that hooks up to it.
Having said that, I think I'm gonna try my hand at drawing for people again! I don't have my big tablet (which is what I draw on....) but I do have procreate and I'm hoping that's enough. SO!!! I am opening up comms. The image above is an example of my artwork, and I am hoping some of y'all will message me either here on my message board or over on @/strawbry_hearts on IG! I'll be making comm sheets after this chapter is published so y'all can see just what I'm offering.

ANYWAYS!!!! Here's a cute lil chapter I cooked up on my tablet :3

——

You saunter into the teacher's lounge with a mischievous glint in your eyes, already on a mission. The moment you spot Aizawa sitting in the corner – half-buried in his sleeping bag with only his mop of black hair peeking out – you know you've found your target.

"Wow, Eraser, you're looking extra... burrito-y today," you quip, strolling over with an exaggerated nod of approval. You squint at the zipped-up sleeping bag. "Or is it more taquito? Hm, I can't decide."

No response. Not even a twitch of his perpetually tired expression. His eyes remain lidded, and for a moment, you're convinced he's already tuning you out.

But you're not one to be discouraged so easily. You plop yourself in the seat across from him, leaning on your elbows dramatically. "You know, I read somewhere that smiling adds years to your life. You must be ancient by now."

Aizawa's gaze slowly shifts toward you. His deadpan stare would probably terrify a lesser human, but you simply grin wider, undeterred.

"Nothing?" you drum your fingers on the table. "Alright, tough crowd. Let's bring out the big guns." With a swift motion, you pull out a small plastic object from your pocket, place it on the table, and flick the switch.

It wobbles once... twice... and then begins to dance – one of those cheap, solar-powered toys with a ridiculous bobble-headed cat doing a cha-cha. You wiggle your fingers at it dramatically, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. "Behold, AIzawa! The peak of modern entertainment!"

His eyes narrow slightly. Is that a flicker of amusement? No, maybe just a blink. Still, you push forward. You tap the table near the toy, watching it jostle in place with its ridiculous, jerky rhythm. "I'm willing to bet this thing has smiled more times in the past minute than you have this entire year."

Finally, Aizawa exhales – a slow, quiet breath. He still doesn't smile, but you catch the almost imperceptible upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. It's faint, but it's there.

You gasp dramatically, pointing an accusing finger. "Ah-ha! That was almost a smile!" You lean closer, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "Or was that just your face malfunctioning? Because it kinda looked like joy."

Aizawa gives you a flat look, but there's definitely a ghost of warmth behind his eyes now. He pulls the sleeping bag higher, as if trying to shield himself from your relentless antics.

You grin triumphantly, wiggling the bobble-headed cat in front of him again. "Oh no, you can't hide from this. The cat demands its due."

—

You spot Aizawa standing by the training grounds, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded as he observes the students sparring. His hair hangs messily over his face, and his perpetually bored expression makes him look one blink away from falling into a nap.

Perfect. Prime material for another attempt.

With a casual stroll, you make your way over, hands stuffed into your pockets, whistling a completely out-of-tune melody. You stop a few feet away, pretending to examine the field with exaggerated seriousness.