iwaizumi x gn!reader
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iwaizumi hajime is hopelessly in love with you, that much is certain- and it’s in everything he does for you. he lets you buy stupidly overpriced cereal that’s only priced so absurdly because of the little toys they have inside, and you already have an entire shelf of them at home. he always orders your favourite flavour of ice cream because you always ask for a bite of his food. he wears short sleeves and tank tops around the house because he knows you like touching his arms. he listens to everything you say and remembers the details of every single story, even if he couldn’t give less of a shit about the people in them. he loves you to heaven and back, you so much as say please and no matter how much he grumbles, anything he could ever give you is yours.
but maybe there is a limit to how much he can give you. maybe he’s spoiled you too much (he has).
“you're pretty,” you say with an innocent smile. like you haven’t been teasing him with this nickname since you both laid in bed. he doesn’t even try to turn his head to look at the time because he knows that whatever he sees won’t do him any good.
“stop it,” he grumbles, shoving his head further into your chest. he feels you softly combing your fingers through his locks, and he silently curses the effect you have on him. already, he’s starting to feel sleepy.
“my pretty princess~” you chuckle.
“go to sleep, [ ___ ]” his voice is muffled from his position, and his arms wrapped around your waist tighten as a warning, but he doesn’t do anything else to stop you. and apparently, that’s enough of a sign for you to keep going.
“my pretty little haji,”
“wha- little?”
“yep,” popping the ‘p’ at the end. “my handsome, gorgeous, beautiful hajime,”.
to that, his face starts to flush. and he turns his head away so you can’t see him.
it’s not as though he doesn’t like being complimented. of course he does, especially by the love of his life. he’s just a bit… awkward to say the least. growing up with a pretty boy, watching people gushing over how handsome oikawa was when he was right there didn’t exactly do wonders for his self-esteem.
“haji? you okay there?”
his thoughts are interrupted by your voice.
“m’fine,” he mumbles.
“besides, you’re the pretty one here,” he says in an attempt to woo you, and so hopefully you don’t pry into the topic.
it doesn’t work, for the most part.
“thank you, haji. but i still think you’re prettier,”
he knows you know what he was thinking. it’s one of the many reasons he fell in love. the way you always seem to know how to cheer him up. how you never take any of his harsh words to heart because you know he doesn’t mean any of them. the fact that you see all he does for you; he doesn’t need to write you love poems or speak sugary words to show how much he loves you.
and he sees all you do for him as well. when you finish the food he makes even if you don’t like it. how you make lunch for him every day because he always forgets. when you text him throughout the day just to check up on him or just to hear his voice. the little post-it notes you leave in the mirror before you go to sleep so he sees them the next morning when he gets ready for his early day run. he sees it all.
and he thinks life really couldn’t get any better, laying in bed with his lover late at night as they praise him endlessly- just because they want to.
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can't stop thinking about tamsyn muir's choice to present her deep, morally and politically complex science fantasy world with a central web of magic, secrets and lies reaching back ten thousand years through the eyes of three characters who:
1. tune out and start thinking about hot women whenever the magic system or worldbuilding are being explained
2. experience hallucinations on a daily basis, have brain damage and are being deceived and misled by their peers, authority figures, themselves and God
3. don't know who they are, have spent their entire life in one place and are, on all levels but physical, six months old
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A Wild Battinson (Social Media AU)
Part 43 (Masterlist)
(Part 44)
Me, to myself: I just think the series was better when I posted several times a week because the pacing felt more natural, and it translates better when people binge it.
Also Me, holding two jobs and a bat: If you try to post once a day again, I will disconnect your head from your shoulders—
@bruciemilf guess who’s back
Anyways, folks! :D So I'm thinking of a new upload schedule where I spend a bit preparing the next ten or so parts then post it all in two weeks? I think that would be fun (and much better for my creative process.)
I’ll be posting the next part very soon :) But it's going to be drastically different from what I've done before. Let’s see if anyone can guess why.
Yada yada don’t die LOVE Y’ALL
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one of the things that feels so clear on rereads but so many people miss the first time they read the way of kings is shallans PTSD. I think part of it is the way it gets overshadowed by the constant unending tragedy of kaladin's story, its easy to slot shallan in as the young naive rich girl and not look much deeper. Part of it also is the way shallan drastically understates her own trauma. she says that she's timid, she doesn't like confrontation, she talks about her father's temper, but she was the lucky one because it was never directed at her. There are so many things in her first few chapters alone that are textbook PTSD, the way she freezes and shuts down any thought process that gets too close to her father's death, the flashback when jasnah gets angry at her, how she dissociates when she draws. It's so obvious if you know what you're looking for, but just subtle enough, especially when it's compared to kaladin's trauma, that a lot of people miss it at first. anyway I would defend shallan davar with my life.
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