forever, your aniki 🪐 oneshots (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ ‼️ Ended ‼️

2. Hydrangea seeds

"I'm sorry it's been so long, Aniki," he finally breathed, "this place- what you've done, its gorgeous."

"Aw, thanks," the blond rubbed the back of his neck. That's when he noticed the patterns adorning M/n's veiny forearms; images of flowers and vines bleeding along to his neck in black ink, turned a soft hazy grey over time.

Someone with much care and passion had inscribed his skin with these hieroglyphs of adoration. He wore the tattoos finely, like a knight laced in chainmail. Growing his own garden upon his anatomy, a living, breathing biome curated from root to buds. It made him even more beautiful.

A girl came in through the back, where a sunroom was overrun by bushes and succulents. She offered Izuku a warm smile before turning to her boss.

"M/n?" her voice was raspy with a ribbit, "Did you want the Pileas moved to the greenhouse for tomorrow?"

"Hmm? Oh," her boss snapped out of his reminiscent daze, "Asui-chan, yes please. Is that compost delivery scheduled for the morning?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded and tightened the green apron she and her boss were wearing, emblazoned with the shop's name. Her eyeballs pinged back and forth between the blond man and the stranger who's hair melded into the bush he stood infront of. Catching her awareness, M/n introduced the patron.

"Ah, imouto, this is Midoriya who I grew up with. He has his own paper company, y'know?" M/n teased proudly, making Izuku's cheeks flush.

She smiled at him, bowing her head respectfully, before leaving the two men to reunite. "Would you like to stay for a bit, Zuku?" M/n suggested, "We close in a couple hours, we're practically running off steam right now to be honest."

"No, I couldn't be a bother-"

"Nonsense. You aren't a bother, never to me." Aniki smiled softly, then caught the stare Izuku had out the window. "But... I presume you have another visit to make?" He smirked.

Flustered, Midoriya tried to assure his friend he wasn't trying to look impatient. "Get over there, man," M/n held the door open for him, that's when Izuku noticed the soil caked under his fingernails, dirt having sunken into the crevices, the term 'green fingered' seemed to fit his big brother well. "He won't mind. After all, it's been too long. Make sure to come again before you leave." The taller man leant in to part ways with another firm hug, and sneakily planted a paper bag into his little brother's pocket.

On his way out, a poster caught Izuku's eye. It seemed M/n ran a club, the one he mentioned for tomorrow, for troubled teens to relax and pot plants. It made his heart soar; M/n's kindness had not faded, even after all this time.

He stumbled across the street and steadied his rapid breath. It was getting late, darkness already settling in across the city skyline. The sign above the black bricked shop proclaimed: The Youngest's Ink Parlour, in that same elegant cursive.

Another bell chimed over his head, his feet brushing the coarse hairs of the welcome matt that displayed the charming phrase 'Fuck Off.' He gulped.

All around the shop were framed designs, traditional Japanese style drawings painted with the tip of a fine paintbrush. Skulls and gothic architecture infiltrated the woodwork of the shop, it was a comforting, morbid atmosphere brought to life by the various plants potted at every station. Someone with gentle hands had rooted these fine greens, picked the perfect pots, and brought them over to spruce up the smell of cartridge and bleeding flesh.

"Hah? Someone come in?" A tough voice called out, Izuku froze solid.

The buzzing of a machine stopped, and heavy footsteps came up to the counter. There stood Bakugou Katsuki, decked out in a black top and surgical gloves, many piercings adorning his angular face. Behind him, laid out in a leathery chair, was his client; a man with a red mullet getting his sleeve worked on. He appeared to be sleeping through his session, the snores breaking up the otherwise calm and methodic atmosphere.

"Don't worry, he ain't dead." The younger twin nodded over his shoulder, "Eijirou gets his best naps under a needle." Katsuki smirked, a chuckle escaping him. He looked up into his old friend's face, the man before him looked reserved and far too grown up.

Not the kid he used to make daisy chains with and pretend to be astronauts. Although being in space would be cool, Katsuki didn't need to leave the atmosphere to see the world. His world lived just across the street.

"How's yer mom?"

"She-she's good, yeah. Asked about the two of you." Zuku chuckled, making Katsuki shake his head fondly at the thought of Mrs Midoriya and her thoughtful nature.

"Well, stick around and you can come back to her with a nice bouquet and a tatted face, how's that sound?" The blond creased up in laughter at Midoriya's displeased face. That kid could never catch onto sarcasm even if it hit him in the face. "I'm just kiddin', sit down an' chill. I'll be done soon." The artist returned to his stool and resumed touching up the snoozing man's tapestry of images.

Turning around, Katsuki's voice came out quiet. "You will, stick around a while? Won't you?"

Glancing out across the street, Zuku could see his big brother and the girl in the green apron sizing up plants and chatting, then turned back to his friend who now, all grown up and settled into his talented career, was asking him to stay.

"Wouldn't wish to be anywhere else." Midoriya gave a close-eyed smile that made the tattooist roll his eyes, the faint smile on his face hidden as he returned to work. 

Whilst sat down, Izuku felt around in his pocket, his fingertips coming upon a crinkly a paper bag. Quirking a brow, he prised it open, only for a bundle of tears to blur his vision. It was filled with Hydrangea seeds. His mother's favourite flower.

Settling back in the chair, he gazed out upon the street as the humming of a needle became the most pleasant sound in the world, accompanied by the sweet smell of petals.

He was right where he needed to be. In the heart of a hidden street, where two brothers intwined like roots. Meaning wherever they where, Izuku was home.