#work has been extra miserable and i’m so overwhelmed with everything

[pessimisticprincess]

getting through the next 2 days literally feels impossible 🥲

[statementlou]

i’m sorry to bring this up again, but i wanted to ask how are you making sense of harry having his former girlfriend’s name tattooed on his thigh if you don’t think they were really together? i’m not a larrie and i follow you for your louis content, but i respect your opinions, so i guess i’m coming more from a place of curiosity rather than seeking reassurance. do you not even entertain for one second the idea that you might’ve been wrong about things? that harry was really in a relationship with olivia? that he might actually be attracted to women? that he might’ve been with louis once upon a time but not anymore? have you ever challenged your confirmation bias? again, i’m not trying to attack you, i really just want to understand where you stand. i hope u don’t take this the wrong way.

well first of all you bring up the very good point that there are actually multiple Qs at play and not just one, despite the fandom's (and my) attempts to simplify things. I personally am open to the possibility that Harry and Louis are no longer together- we don't have enough info to say for sure either way about that, and I am constantly recalibrating and considering and I'm going to be totally honest, getting flat out ANNOYED at how often I find myself being like oh damn they ARE still (or again) together ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Because it seems so improbable and illogical! You think I don't KNOW I sound fucking crazy?! Absolutely infuriating, and yet there are just all these little Things all the time. Plus ofc the fact that they both constantly wink wink larrie stuff to the fandom which could just be playing to the crowd... except then they both continually take it that little extra way that makes me go oh but... you really didn't NEED to go THERE that seems VERY pointed?? But also sometimes I go well. Okay, maybe not. Since they both seem super happy at this point, it doesn't stress me out to think they might have split, the way it would if they seemed miserable and were still churning out heartbreak songs, but it's schrodingers relationship and with all the savvy they've acquired around this stuff and all the balls they're keeping in the air wrt to fandom etc that's unlikely to change in favor of us knowing anything for sure for a very long time, if ever. But I do not doubt that they WERE together, it's simply not realistic. The evidence of it is overwhelming and imo undeniable when taken all together. And the thing is that knowing one thing with certainty (that they were together back when), having really looked at the things that happened during that time, does actually have a lot of bearing on the rest of it even if they aren't together anymore. Because knowing that and having seen the way fake relationships to make them seem straight were managed back then means that when I see the EXACT SAME things being done in the current day, like they are working from a fucking blueprint, no, I don't look at that and think it might be real. I know that Louis and Eleanor wasn't real in... whenever they allegedly got together lol, that story still isn't even quite straight, so why would I believe they were together in 2020? And if I know Louis has a tattoo for a fake girlfriend why would it change my mind about a million things I can see with my own eyes if Harry did the same (if indeed he even has who tf knows)? So despite what I said at the beginning, in the end it kind of does just come down to the one question people are always asking, are you a larrie? Because when you've actually been down the rabbit hole of details that ends up with you saying yes to that question, it's like acquiring a rosetta stone that unlocks the ability to read everything else, like putting on xray glasses, and I look at what is so obviously a publicity relationship (holivia) and whether H and L are still together has nothing to do with why I don't think it's real. Like could a celeb relationship be both used in typical ways for publicity and be or become real on some level (looking at you Liam, heyyy), sure, but for this question the fact that I have never seen Harry show the slightest sign of attraction to a woman in his whole life and he so clearly embraces and identifies so strongly with gay male culture in every possible way and never shuts up about how much he loves cock does play into my thinking; I simply do not think he is attracted to women, no, and I have yet to see him do anything that doesn't seem consistent with things a closeted pop star might chose to do. So in conclusion yes I have challenged my bias and decided I'm right lol! But for real- all the time I consider that they perhaps aren't together but that isn't really the point when it comes to believing they are gay.

[e-wills-afterhours]

Pretentious Coffee, Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, my friends. Behold! The return off my wildly popular Hiccstrid coffee shop/college modern AU. I am working on chapter 7 of Vetrnaetr as we speak. Since writing that take quite a bit of time and effort, I thought I would edit and post this oldie (but still a goody?) in the meantime. The fic also takes place around the Christmas season, so, well...why the hell not, amirite???

I also once saw someone say the characters' names should reflect modern names in a modern au. But...I don't care. You know who I'm writing about, and changing the names is cumbersome, so I've dropped the pretense. *jazz hands*

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Hiccstrid

---

Astrid’s head ached from the aftereffects of the previous night’s party. Between the deafening music, the pervasive smell of marijuana, beer, and vomit, and the morning’s brutal hangover, she vowed never to accompany her roommate to another “small get together” again. Ruffnut couldn’t be trusted. Astrid was unsure the other woman understood the concept of responsible, well-mannered entertainment. Like her twin brother, Ruffnut lived for the extreme, and Astrid had been their collateral damage more than once.

Hence her current state.

It was almost noon and she was standing in line for overpriced coffee in a tiny corner shop she never visited. It was cramped, but quiet; unlike the student café on campus.

Astrid was not one for caffeine, but she needed a pick-me-up to salvage the remainder of her weekend for studying. Unfortunately, her midterm exams would not pass themselves.

“Next,” the barista droned.

Astrid glanced up, scanning overhead chalkboard menu framed by poorly drawn snowflakes—to complement the abysmal weather outside, she supposed. Her eyes darted around, but settled on nothing in particular.

There were ten different kind of specialty coffees, an assortment of seasonal hot drinks, traditional coffee brews, and another half of the menu dedicated to blended concoctions.

Inexperienced in the ways of coffees and lattes, Astrid found it all a bit overwhelming.

“You know, this would be a whole lot easier on the both of us if you had—I don’t know…bothered to glance at the menu when you were waiting in line, nothing to do.”

Astrid blinked, staring at the barista who was leaning on the counter, propped up by his elbows. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she was taken aback, torn between gaping at his rudeness and scowling back. She imagined her face did some odd sort of spasm between the two while she fumbled a response. 

“I’ve never been in here before!” she blurted in her defense.

“Neither has that guy, but he ordered in two seconds,” the barista sighed, nodding toward the gentleman waiting for his drink in the pick-up area. “Blissfully uncomplicated.”

Astrid folded her arms, feeling herself bristle under the layers of winter clothing. “I don’t drink coffee.”

He laughed, straightening up. His name badge caught the light and her gaze flickered down to read HICCUP.

“Yet…you’re in a coffee shop?” he asked, his otherwise bored tone punctuated with burgeoning amusement.

Astrid rolled her eyes, dropping her arms to the side. “I didn’t mean I never—“ She stopped abruptly, feeling her temper rise at the gap-tooth smirk across the counter. She tore off her gloves and stuffed them in her purse for something else to focus on. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?” she sassed back.

“And this is the place you chose. Lucky me.”

She glared at him, leaning in. “Working real hard for that tip, aren’t you?”

He genuinely grinned. “The whole twenty-five cents you weren’t going to pay me to begin with? I’m devastated.”

Astrid’s headache was getting worse she knew who to blame. She huffed, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were scrunched closed, half with pain, and half with exasperation. If she wasn’t already miserable from excessive drinking, “Hiccup” would have made her so.

“Look,” she hissed. “I’ll take the…gingerbread latte, small. Can you put an extra shot of espresso in that?”  She shook her head as he opened his mouth to answer, disinterested in whatever snarky remark he had to share. “Oh, never mind. Just do it—and if it’s one of those girly coffees with whipped cream, you can just leave that off.”

Hiccup uncapped a sharpie and started scribbling on the side of an empty cup. “Extra-pretentious coffee with a generous dusting of privilege…”

“What?” she barked, wringing the strap of her purse like it was his neck.

If only.

Hiccup’s expression was neutral.

“A small gingerbread latte with an extra shot, hold the whipped cream. Why? What did you hear?” He passed the empty cup to the other barista working the espresso machine. “That’ll be three-fifty.”

Astrid rummaged around for her wallet, pulling out a crinkled five dollar bill and shoving it into his hand rather forcefully. He made change, and there was something about his even visage that was as infuriating as his snarky quips. Without a single word, Astrid still felt like he was making a mockery of things—his job; the coffee he served; her.

She tucked the change away, fingers cramming it down bitterly, all save for one quarter to hold over the tip jar. When Hiccup’s eyebrows arched in surprise, she withdrew it in spite. He just laughed, much to her increasing annoyance.

Apparently, along with his lack of professionalism, he did not have the capacity to take things seriously—but it wasn’t Astrid’s problem that he didn’t want to be tipped. For some reason, it bothered her all the same.

Hiccup splayed a hand over his chest, ruefully eyeing the quarter. “You’re breaking my heart.”

She scoffed and marched toward the back of the shop near the coffee pick-up. There was a small table by the window where she could watch the cathartic dance of the snowfall outside. It was something to gaze at with unfocused eyes as she ran through her flash cards for political science.

Of her upcoming exams, she feared that one the least, deciding it was the best content to review until her brain began firing on all cylinders again.

She shrugged off her jacket and her scarf, draping them over the back of the chair. She had been feeling heated, thinking it was her interaction with a certain intolerable barista, but as she sat down, she noticed just how warm the shop really was. With less layers, it was actually pleasant, and she pulled out ring of flash cards from her purse.

Not more than four cards in, her latte was delivered by a tall, gangling figure—fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it—and her mood soured, until she saw the water bottle set down alongside her drink.

“For the hangover,” Hiccup explained, no attitude to spare. “Works better than espresso, anyway.”

Astrid stared up at him, puzzled.

It was in the daylight filtering through the window that she finally saw him properly, and that face, so unassuming and unimpressed by everything around him, rang a bell. Something about those eyes and that irritating carelessness lit a match in her memory—but it was only a tiny flame, incapable of illuminating the bigger picture. She did not know when or where, but she was sure she had seen him before. It was dim inside that little coffee shop, but closer to the window, Hiccup had eyes that were not easily forgotten.

He quirked his brow again and only then did she realize she had been staring.

“What makes you think I have a hangover?” she asked, wishing she had not noticed the familiarity in his tone.

Too suddenly, she was noticing other things—his jawline and stubble, and the flattering fit of his black work slacks. Objectively, he was easy on the eyes, and it was a great cosmic injustice that he did not have the corresponding personality.

“Maybe it’s the fact you’re in here studying in the middle of a Saturday, trudging through crappy weather, spending too much on coffee you never drink, and squinting excessively?” he replied. “Or maybe it’s just a barista’s intuition?”

Astrid snorted, but reached for the water. Her throat was becoming drier the longer he stood there.

“Your intuition is shit because I’m not squinting. I’m glaring, and you’re the reason.”

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, smirking. “Okay, Ms. Not-hungover. Consider it a midterm special—coffee and water.”

“And what do I owe you for this ‘midterm special?’”

With a straight face, he answered, “A quarter would suffice.”

Astrid sneered, reaching for her purse. “You’re such an idiot.”

She produced the quarter, holding out to him with a flat stare.

“Maybe I am, but I’m not the one hungover the weekend before midterms—ah! Excuse me. Not-hungover,” he said, walking away with his hands up.

“Jackass,” she muttered, raising her latte to her lips. She yelped and nearly dropped the cup, fanning herself furiously as the drink scalded her.

“Beginner’s tip: Coffee is usually hot,” Hiccup called from behind the counter.

Astrid continued to glare at him, even after he had looked away. She still held him in her sights, even after her expression softened a bit.

[atinygoblin]

My annual leave ends this Saturday. I’ve had a good 17 days off. I managed to scam a couple of extra days, with simply how my shifts fell. I booked annual leave for my boyfriends birthday, to make sure I was there for it.

Basically, I gave him his first ever experience of a birth-week, just wanted to make sure it was all about him for a week. On his actual birthday, we spent it with his parents and brother just having a few drinks.

2nd day, Me, him and his brother went to see barbie. I’ve already watched it (ofc) and they loved it (ofc!)

I cried again. Barbie is going to become a comfort movie for me. Feeling really grown lately. Just really telling my age. I’m 22 but I feel like I’m not as young as I was when I was 19. Like I feel fully formed but now I have no idea what I’m meant to do with the rest of my life.

I did cry in the car. Started to have an existential crisis on the way home. I feel so far behind everyone, but like I feel like I’ve only just grew up. How do people even know how they like something? Everything changes. Nothing stays the same? Why plan your whole life out, when things will change?? You will change? Everything you’ve prepared for will inevitably change at some point and you start off at square 1. Do you do it all over again?

Sorry barbie makes me think.

Thinking that has completely overwhelmed me.

Saturday, he went to work and a had a day too myself. Thank god, because that Saturday was a trauma anniversary, so I was miserable. I did take a walk to the shops which helped me clear my head, did also cry on the walk to the shops too.

Sunday, he played at a punk festival with the band that his in ( they all slayyed ) but the headliners were buzzcocks. They were amazing, even if it is a glorified tribute band, I really enjoyed seeing them.

Monday, we took a walk round Bradgate park, which lady Jane grey lived. I really enjoyed the fact that it was me and stinky, just chatting shit and enjoying the sun. I love him so much. I did have to go home though on Monday.

I hate going home. Ofc because of my mum and dad. But it’s so boring here, the only good thing is that I get to see my sisters and pets.

I feel like I’ve just developed over a few months and I’ve just became super independent. When I’m home, that gets stripped away from be, but somehow expected not need anything.

One thing I’ve always struggled with, is restlessness. I’m a restless person, if I’m stuck in the same place for a little too long, I go feral. For example, on a bad day and hit myself and others around me. (I think this is me needing physical stimulation) I’m not always violent when restless, but I get agitated. You know that feeling when you’re that angry, and you get the urge to bite. Like that ache in your jaw that you get when you’re angry. I feel that when I’m restless. It’s just best for me to take a walk instead of biting everyone.

Being at home makes me constantly want to bite, hit and scream all the time. But I can’t, that’s what mentally unstable people do. Me, I’m a good girl, I go on a walk. It comes to my first day back at home and I’m restless. It’s time for a walk.

I go on my walk, and just burning that energy is making me feel so much more better. BUT NO. IM NEVER ALLOWED ANY PEACE EVER.

My mum calls me…moaning

Because I left the house for a few minutes. I was so angry. I literally can’t do anything. Whatever I do is wrong. Always the wrong choice.

Exhausted of trying to better myself when I’m at home. I’m starting to believe that my mum wants me struggle. She’s just coming in between me and myself. Only solution is to live a 2nd life

It’s been like that all week so far, anything I do is some how an inconvenience to my mum and dad. I would say it’s starting to annoy me but it started as soon as a came home. It’s been jarring since I came home.

[tsugarubecker]

(Chapter one under the cut! 💕)

Bridging the Gap

Chapter 1

It’s been a long day.

Will Byers thinks it might possibly have been the longest day of his entire life so far. (He’s purposefully choosing to disregard his week in the upside down. Also his other week being possessed. Those don’t count. No other bad day would stand a chance against those ones, and that’s not fair.)

One more time he fluffs the navy blue sleeping bag he’s pulled out of storage, shaking out the slightly musty smell. Not that Mike’s ever minded little things like that. Mike’s slept on the floor, slept in a hospital chair when Will needed him.

Not that things are… quite like that, anymore.

Reasonably satisfied that he’s shaken the sleeping back for all it’s worth, Will lays it on his bedroom floor and mutters “c’mon, Will” to himself under his breath. He can’t stand here feeling self-indulgently miserable about Mike right now. He’s got couch cushions to grab.

He moves almost two full steps out of his doorway and nearly collides with Mike.

“Ah shit,” Mike hisses, twisting at the last second to avoid contact. Will stumbles, retreats a step backwards into his room, startled. They’re still standing too close.

“Uh… hi.” Will says, blinking at his friend. “Sorry.”

“No no, it’s all good. I’m sorry. Uh, I mean, for nearly running into you. Sorry.” Mike scratches his head. He’s looking at the wall.

“It’s okay. I was just gonna grab some couch cushions. That’s better than the floor, right?”

“…Grab the couch cushions, like off the couch?” Mike is now looking over Will’s shoulder into his room. He clocks the sleeping bag. His expression is unreadable.

“Um, yeah. I figured we could put them down in here. I grabbed you a sleeping bag. It smells like the attic but I figured you wouldn’t mind too much.”

Mike looks like he minds.

“…Unless you do mind? I can grab some blankets instead, I’m sure my mom has a couple extra on her—“

“—Well I was just thinking maybe I’d—“

“—bed that I’m sure I can grab—“

“—just sleep on the couch.”

Will looks at Mike. He blinks. His heart suddenly seems to weigh five extra pounds. He has no idea why this didn’t occur to him, especially after their fight today, and now he feels deeply embarrassed and childish. Of course - of course Mike will sleep on the couch.

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah, totally. Okay.” His chest doesn’t feel like it has an anvil on it. His throat isn’t getting choked up. Just because they always, always had their sleepovers in one another’s bedrooms doesn’t mean that needs to keep being a thing that happens. They’re practically adults now. Things change. They can still be friends. It’s okay. He’s fine. Everything is fine. “Um, do you want the uh…” he clears his throat as emotion threatens to destabilize his voice. “The, uh, sleeping bag? Or should I grab you some of those—“

“The sleeping bag is fine. Thanks.” Mike looks expectantly at Will. He looks testy, and exhausted. Overwhelmed - and no energy left to spare Will’s feelings.

Obligingly Will turns, hesitates for a second while deciding whether to fold up the sleeping bag, thinks better of it, grabs it up and crumples it together unceremoniously before turning and passing it to Mike. It’s a struggle to keep from throwing it at him or at least shoving it into his arms, but he narrowly avoids both. When he passes it to Mike, his right hand brushes Mike’s left. It’s an accident. Will sees Mike’s eyelashes flutter for a soft moment. Or it’s a trick of the dimmed down lights.

“Thanks.” Mike murmurs, taking a small awkward sideways step away. “I’m… gonna brush my teeth. Okay if I go first?”

Will’s chest is so tight he hardly trusts himself to speak. “Mmhmm.” He nods. He forces a small smile.

“Okay.” Mike turns and leaves.

Will stands in his doorway and watches him go. Once he’s turned the corner Will slowly backs all the way into his room and quietly closes the door. For a moment he just stands there. Then he leans forward and rests his forehead on the door. Breathes. Tries to fill his heavy chest with air. His head is pounding.

A couple minutes pass. He finally turns, moves away from the door toward the bed. Flicks the light off as he goes, deciding, screw it, he’s not brushing his teeth tonight.

He pulls himself into bed, muscles feeling slow like quicksand, and folds himself all up into the blankets like he’s a child. Like he’s fragile. Needs cushioning. Like if he moves too quickly or with too much force he might break.

He curls onto his side, one arm finding the one stuffed animal he allows himself (a worn, beige bear) and the fingers of his other hand grasping his pillow. The blankets are pulled over his head.

It’s only then, when he’s safely covered up and alone, that he allows the first sob to come.

Chapter 2

[silversatoru]

Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!

hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33

empty

levi ackerman x gn!reader

synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help

tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending! 

word count: 2.2k 

Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have. 

Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.

You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you. 

You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern. 

“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge. 

“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed. 

“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”

“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse. 

“That’s an order, cadet”. 

His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety. 

Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.

That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine.  Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself. 

After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul. 

Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions. 

You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something? 

It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again. 

You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts. 

Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face. 

Things are feeling deplorable on your side — you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you. 

The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.

“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.

“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”. 

“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?” 

Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?

You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head. 

“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway. 

“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?” 

“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”. 

“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”

His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore. 

“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words. 

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.

You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.

“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up. 

He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth. 

“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again. 

The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed. 

“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”. 

“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear. 

Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least. 

You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips. 

“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”. 

You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it. 

And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long. 

But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress. 

It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.

thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit

[voiceless-terror]

More than Enough

For @tma-mspec-week Day Three: Polycule

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Sasha James/Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Summary:

“But what if-” Once again, Jon struggles to find the right words. He knows their situation is unorthodox to most people, and the thought of Martin looking at him differently is too much to bear. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Then explain it to him,” Sasha relays patiently, her hand never leaving his. Things are always so clear to her, Jon envies that. “You’re my partners, you’re dating Tim, sometimes me and Tim have-”

Or: How One Became Four.

It starts with Sasha and Jon.

She’s fresh off six months in Artefact Storage, shell-shocked and stand-offish. Jon starts a few months later and they learn the ropes together. She warms up, divulges little tidbits of her time in the other department that Jon devours. He’s young, hungry for answers and Sasha’s already jaded by her few years in academia. This is just a transitional job, she assures him. It pays better than most research gigs and allows her to keep up a certain lifestyle. 

“I’m looking at other places, putting out feelers,” she confides in him one day over coffee. It’s become their daily ritual, a mid-morning break where they can commiserate on the staid academics that ask too much of them and the fanciful statements that end up on their desk. “Whatever you do, don’t get stuck here.” She leans back in her chair, gives a cynical little smile. “Or maybe you should. It’ll be different for you, you’re a man.” He starts a protest but she cuts him off. “It’s an old boys club and you know it. Besides, I know all about your extra meetings with Bouchard. He’s never done that with anyone else. Who knows - in a few years you might be my boss!”

He scoffs at that. Jon feels like he’s treading water. He’s a great researcher, sure, but he hasn’t exactly made himself popular among the others. He’s quick to bite, dismissive, blunt. It’s why he and Sasha get along so well, tucked away in their own little world. Of course she would notice the attention from Elias; Jon’s flattered by it, even if he stammers his way through every interaction. Elias seems to find this amusing, but Jon wants to impress him. 

Though not at the cost of his friendship with Sasha. “I always mention your work to him. I’m rubbish with technology, but you-” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t, he’ll see right through that. Manipulation’s not your strong suit.” Jon stares down at his rapidly cooling drink, an embarrassed flush spreading across his features. But her hand reaches out to grasp his and a fond smile lights her features. “Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you.”

Jon likes Sasha. Their personalities occasionally clash, but never for too long. Jon’s quick to forgive and Sasha’s too fond to hold a grudge, though she’s loath to admit it. So when her roommate suddenly moves out and she’s left in a bind, it’s only natural for Jon to take her place. He’s been rent-poor, living paycheck to paycheck in a shitty studio that’s still an hour’s commute. Sasha’s closer and her flat’s substantially nicer; she offers and he accepts, easy as that. It’s a practical move, and Jon has to admit his lonely little flat is starting to feel suffocating. 

They fit together easily, like pieces of puzzle slotting in place. Sasha’s brutally efficient in her personal matters; bills and maintenance that Jon finds overwhelming and confounding she takes care of with ease. He’s heard her on the phone in that light, practiced tone of hers as she casually threatens the landlord for necessary repairs. Jon finds himself relaxing bit by bit, feeling comfortable in his own skin as she snarks at the dinner table over a dish he’s made. He used to cook for Georgie like this. Now he cooks for Sasha.

“You’re good at this,” she comments one night over chana masala. “Loads better than the frozen meals I’m used to.”

“It’s nice, having someone to cook for. Harder to do it for one.” He feels a bit uncomfortable with the admission, though he knows he shouldn’t - this is what it’s like, when you love someone.

He’s never said that to her, of course. He gets attached too easily but never knows quite how to show it. And it’s not his usual sort of love, he doesn’t want to date her. She’s more than a friend, and Jon’s never had many of those; he has no metric to measure this against. He thinks he could stay in this flat with her forever, so long as he could see her smile every morning and yawn every night. 

On a Saturday morning she stumbles out of bed and makes her way over to the kitchen. “Morning,” she grumbles, as she reaches for the coffee pot and kisses his forehead. Jon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

On a Wednesday night Jon drinks too much. 

“Sasha,” he slurs, her arm the only thing keeping him from falling off his stool. “I want you t’ know…”

She smiles indulgently, takes a sip of her drink. “Yes, dear?”

“I-I love you.” She pauses and Jon’s heart drops. “N-Not like that, but like friends. Good friends. Very good friends. But m-maybe not.” She’s still smiling, that’s got to be a good sign, right? “I-I just love you, okay?”

And then she laughs, puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. “I love you too. Stay with me forever, okay?”

He takes her hand between his and promises, with all the solemnity a drunken man can muster, that he’ll stay with her forever and then some. The next morning, while they’re both nursing massive hangovers, Jon broaches the subject again.

“Did you mean it?” he asks tentatively, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “What you said last night. Do- do you want me to stay forever?” She turns to look at him, bleary eyes suddenly alert.

“Yes.” There’s no tease in her words as she leans into his side, a warm weight on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more.”

Jon stays.

______

Two years later, Tim joins the Institute.

He’s handsome; charming, but subdued. He’s been assigned a desk near theirs, invading the quiet little corner that had become their world. Tim greets them both with a smile and a perfunctory handshake before settling down at his desk and powering up his laptop. He doesn’t speak to them again.

Jon watches as he goes back and forth between circulation and his desk, building an impressive stack of books- The Pantomime Life of Joseph Grimaldi, The Congress of Clowns and Other Russian Circus Acts. Sasha told him he worked in publishing, Jon knows she got that information through her usual nefarious means. Perhaps he’s writing a book, Jon says. Sasha thinks otherwise.

“He’s one of those,” she says over sandwiches and tea. She invited Tim, but had been turned down with an apologetic smile. 

“Hmm?”

“Like you.” She sets her drink down, eyes him with her steady gaze. “He’s got a reason.”

Mr. Spider doesn’t like it.

Jon shivers at the reminder. Sasha never brought it up after he initially confided in her one vulnerable night last year; she just held him through the shaking and the tears. He’s only told the story twice; once at eight, again at twenty five. It never got easier.

“No one believed me,” he whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder as his body itched from phantom legs skittering across skin. She squeezed him back.

“I do.”

They’re friendly enough to Tim, giving him his distance while still trying to be helpful. Jon points him in the direction of texts and scholars who might be useful, Sasha teaches him a few of her more invasive tricks that Jon refused to learn. Slowly, bit by bit, he opens up. Never shares his story, no- but he smiles, jokes around with them, accompanies them on their lunch breaks and eventually entices them to after work drinks. 

He’s handsome when he smiles, Jon thinks to himself as Tim regales them with stories of dates gone wrong. Sasha catches his eye and winks. He wonders if she’ll tire of Jon now that Tim’s around. He’s everything Jon’s not; good-looking, confident, secure in his intelligence. Sasha laughs so freely around him. He could ground her where Jon cannot- they can be a chaotic force, the two of them. It’s why they keep to themselves.

But at the end of the night it’s Jon’s hand she takes, swinging it gently with hers. “Stay with me forever?”

He smiles. “Forever.”

They invite him over to their flat one night in spring, when the trees are blossoming and Jon’s allergies are acting up. He’s sniffling miserably on the couch, Tim sprawled next to him as Sasha pours some wine. Despite his misery, Jon’s content.

Tim nudges him with his foot. “So what’s your deal?” he asks in a wheedling tone, though his smirk betrays an almost imperceptible anxiety. It’s strange. “You and Sash. Dating, roomies…?”

It’s Sasha who answers, handing Jon a glass of wine and standing before Tim, tall and proud. “Jon’s my partner.” It’s matter of fact, and Jon can’t help the warmth that floods him. “We’re not dating. I’m not interested in that.” She hands him his glass with a smirk. “But if you want to romance Jon, feel free.”

Jon sputters as she laughs- he’s transparent, as usual. They’d talked about it briefly- Sasha’s fine with him dating other people, but Jon’s never felt the need to. Sasha’s enough. She still is, but he can’t deny the way his heart swoops whenever Tim aims that smile in his direction. Sasha likes him too, in her own way.

Tim’s still gaping at them and Jon can’t help but join in on the laughter, as embarrassed as he feels. “Is the great Timothy Stoker nervous?” Sasha says in between giggles. “Guess we know how to shut him up now.”

“L-Look, can you blame me?” Tim says, a smile growing on his face. “You two can be very intimidating, not to mention gorgeous-”

Jon kicks at his leg. “Don’t joke.”

“No, we are.” Sasha interrupts, daring him to disagree. She turns that deadly smile back on Tim, delighting in his falter. “So what’ll it be, Stoker?”

There’s silence, Jon can feel his heart racing. They’ve got this all wrong, Tim doesn’t want him, Tim’s going to leave, Tim doesn’t understand-

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yes?”

“He likes Thai!” Sasha calls as she walks over to her bedroom, leaving the two of them on the couch, laughing nervously. 

“So you’re bi, then?” Tim asks, scooting closer to Jon and throwing a blanket over their legs and an arm around his shoulder. It’s warm in all the right ways and Jon leans closer, the awkwardness dissipating at the touch of his hand. 

“I prefer pan,” he replies. It’s the first term that felt right to him. Georgie used to make some stupid joke about a ‘gender buffet’ and him ‘having one of everything.’ It still makes him smile. “And- and you should know I’m also ace. So there’s some things I won’t be able to do for you.” He looks for disappointment in Tim’s eyes and finds none. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Tim smiles like he means the words and Jon feels light, almost dizzy. “Are kisses alright?”

He nods shyly, and Tim takes this as his cue to pepper him in obnoxiously loud smooches- one in his hair, another on his nose. Jon manages to bat him away after Tim almost gets him in the eye. 

So Tim and Jon are dating. Tim takes him out to dinner, the movies, one memorable night of karaoke. Sasha joins in when she wants; they go to museums and lectures. One night she laces her fingers through Tim’s, smiling at his wide eyes.

“What?” she says innocently, doing the same with Jon. “I’ve got two hands.”

On Wednesday nights Tim goes to the gym. Jon sits at the table, passes Sasha a bowl of reheated spaghetti before settling down in his chair. He fidgets, not touching his fork.

“What is it?” Sasha asks, setting her own fork down. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I-” he stutters, sighing as the words won’t come. Just tell her like you practiced. “I’m not trying to, well- hmm. I don’t want to insinuate anything-”

“You would never.”

“But, I’ve noticed- I’m not- Tim is very handsome.”

Sasha smiles indulgently. “Mhm. Go on.”

“And I’ve noticed. I don’t- if you wanted to-” Goddamnit. Pull yourself together. “I wouldn’t mind it, if you were to - that is, if you’d like to engage in-” He closes his eyes, purses his lips in frustration. “Please stop me.”

“Why Jon,” she replies, her voice coy and teasing. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

Jon sighs, his face warming as he opens one eye- she’s grinning, just as he expected. “...Yes?”

Six months later, Tim moves in.

_______

“Jon wants to bring a boy home!”

Jon smacks him in the arm and scowls. “Tim, don’t-”

“What, it’s true!” He leans back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Jon wants to knock the smile off his face and maybe onto the floor, if he can get a good kick in. “I don’t blame you and in fact, I encourage it. Martin’s a catch-”

“Martin?” Sasha perks up. “Finally!”

“Not you too-”

“Jon, he’s a very sweet boy-”

“-good-looking, too!”

“And if you want to bring him over, please do.” She reaches across the table to give his hand an encouraging, if condescending, squeeze. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

“But what if-” Once again, Jon struggles to find the right words. He knows their situation is unorthodox to most people, and the thought of Martin looking at him differently is too much to bear. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Then explain it to him,” Sasha relays patiently, her hand never leaving his. Things are always so clear to her, Jon envies that. “You’re my partners, you’re dating Tim, sometimes me and Tim have-”

“I don’t think I’ll need to go into that much detail just yet,” Jon cuts her off, ignoring Tim’s snicker. “It’s just...what if he thinks it's weird?”

“Weird can be good. And if he doesn’t agree, well - he’s not worth your time.”

If only it were that simple.

It’s been about three months since he first ran into Martin in the break room. He’d seen him around plenty of times, but despite his hulking form, the man can make himself very, very small. It wasn’t until he quite literally ran into him, causing him to drop his newly organized files, that Jon got a good look at his face.

It was a nice face. Soft, kind, with big blue eyes and curly red hair that fell across his forehead. He wanted to touch it, tuck it behind Martin’s ear and he almost did, despite the man’s rambling apologies and meek demeanor. He stood there, frozen, even as Martin handed back the file with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I’m pretty clumsy. Are you alright?”

Jon was fine. He should probably say that.

“Y-Yes. I’m Jon.” Wow. Smooth.

“I know.” Martin put a hand behind his neck, nervously chuckling. “You’re quite known around these parts.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. A nice red. “N-Not in a bad way, of course! You’re- you’re just very smart and- and direct- and oh Lord, that’s not a compliment, is it-”

“Thank you for my file,” Jon replied robotically, his eyes trained somewhere over Martin’s shoulder and not on his very, very blue eyes. “I have to take my leave now.” Why are you talking like this?

Their next few encounters were similarly stunted and awkward. Martin made tea at ten every morning, coincidentally when Jon got his yogurt from the fridge. He started making Jon a cup as well; he wasn’t sure if Martin was particularly excellent at making tea, or if it just mattered that he was the one making it. Jon tried not to dwell on the sentimentality of it all. 

He shouldn’t want another partner. He’s got Sasha, who he loves, and Tim, who he also loves, albeit in a different way. They should be enough for him. They are enough. But Martin makes him tea and asks him how his day is going and smiles at him and people don’t do that. He tells himself he just wants a friend, but he finds his mind wandering- Martin’s hand in his while they walk down the street, Jon nestled into his side on a movie night and Tim’s there too, because Martin is very comfy and handsome and warm. Sasha’s in her armchair reading a book because tonight they’re watching a romantic comedy and she hates those. Jon hates them too but Martin likes them, of course Martin likes them-

No. He’s getting distracted. And he’s standing in front of Martin like an idiot, saying nothing. This is going terribly. Why did he ever think this would not go terribly-

“Jon? Are you alright? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” Jon responds on auto-pilot. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to ask you out but you are very distracting.”

Shit. Martin stares at him, mouth open in shock. He’s got nice teeth. Very straight.

“Um- I-I thought you were with Tim?” Martin squeaks out. Oh God, I’ve scared him. Do I keep going? “Or- or Sasha, oh! I’m not accusing you of -”

“No, you’re correct,” Jon grinds out, willing himself to be calm. He doesn’t want Martin to think his frustration is aimed at him. “Sasha’s my partner and I’m dating Tim, and sometimes Sasha and Tim-” No! Abort! “-sorry. We’re together. But, um, I-I also like you, and I think Tim likes you but he hasn’t said- I’m sorry, this is going all wrong.” He looks down at the floor, clenching his jaw. “I understand if you say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Martin’s voice is lower now and Jon feels a hope rise in his chest. He’s not? “So it’s, it’s like an open thing? You’re accepting applications?” Jon would laugh at the joke if he weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Not really? It’s, we aren’t dating around or anything, but I suppose it is open, in a way.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Open for you.”

Martin’s smiling like he can’t believe his luck, and it confuses Jon because who wouldn’t want him? Kind, handsome Martin who makes him tea and doesn’t laugh at his stupid jokes but rolls his eyes affectionately and tells his own in turn. Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever understand his humor but it makes him smile and that’s important. And now Martin’s taking his hand and he- oh fuck Martin’s taking his hand Martin’s got his hand and it’s warm, just like he knew it would be-

“I-I think I’d like that.” A squeeze. Jon dies but only a little. “Wow, this is sort of crazy for me, y’know? You’re all so, so intimidating and good-looking-”

“Yes, we are,” Jon agrees, squeezing his hand back. “But we’d like to buy you dinner, if you’re amenable.” Martin laughs and says yes, he’s very, very amenable. It feels right holding Martin’s hand. It feels right to see him with Tim and Sasha, smiling and joking. It feels right to lean into him at the end of the day, to nudge his side in the night and apologize in the morning.

Martin’s lease expires in seven months. They start looking for a new apartment after three.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032062

[kentos-filmcamera]

10 times, 1 occasion - Inumaki Toge

7. Festivities

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: hi hi! soo a few things: I would like to warn that this chapter shows a more feminine side of the reader so if anyone is uncomfy,, you've been warned. this chapter is just friendship and ships (there's nobara x maki and yuuji x megumi if you squint a bit) and it's 3.0k words (new record!!!!!) so buckle up and enjoy! also, next chapter is my favorite so far so go read it as soon as you're done with this.

Toge persisted you to rest for the past three days, as you were indicated. He sat by your bedside so you wouldn’t go anywhere, always keeping your injured ankle raised and your head comfortable, helping you to change bandages from time to time. Even then, you persisted to go as normal and continue with your duties.

“So hot…” Maki complained from your green couch, her glasses set aside as she covered her eyes from the sun with her forearm.

“I think you should stop hugging Kugisaki, then” Megumi suggested, the redhead laying on top of her, but he just received a death glare.

“Shake” Toge agreed with Maki, laying on top of Panda, who was snoring loudly. You, on the other hand, were on top of Yuuji’s shoulders, working on your damaged air conditioner.

“Gimme the flat screwdriver, ‘Gumi” You extended your hand, the other one holding one of the filters of the AC.

Your air conditioning system broke down once a year, and you knew it was because of the dirty filters. For some reason, everyone decided to hang out in your room, so extra help was usually given out to you. Maki and Nobara cleaned the filters, Panda and Toge first assisted you and then the help shifted to Megumi and Itadori. The last one was more than glad to have a pair of thighs wrapped around his neck, and his smile displayed so as Inumaki and Megumi both stared him down to oblivion. With the screwdriver now in your hand, you pressed each filter well to its original place. You closed the lid and Yuuji plopped you down on your bed, making you laugh.

You reached in to click on the air conditioner, it turned on normally and after a few minutes, it wasn’t leaking water anymore. “It’s fixed” You heard a collective sigh you let out yourself, feeling the cold air fill the room.

Itadori laid down on the floor by your mini-fridge and Megumi sat at the edge of your bed, next to your feet. You were all so overwhelmed by the heat, no one really wanted to speak, just take in the fake rise in temperature to calm down their sweating and corporal heat.

Just as you were falling into pure, calm bliss, you heard bass thumping from down the hall. You opened your eyes and raised your head towards the door, at the same time everyone else did, confused. Queue in Gojo with a boombox from the 90s, playing ‘Congratulations’ by Post Malone. There was now a collective groan in annoyance as he walked in and faced the bunch of sweaty teens.

“Good afternoon my amazing students!” There was another collective groan in response. No one didn’t even bother raising their heads once more to look at him, and Megumi just turned his face away slightly. Everyone was grumpy or simply not in the mood “I am here to give out great news! Everyone who has tried for first-grade sorcerer has been officially promoted! Congratulations!”

Suddenly, the aura of the room shifted. Everyone was upright, in a mix of shock and happiness. Nobara started screaming out in happiness with Maki, while you, Megumi, Gojo, and Itadori started jumping on your bed in a circle, holding hands. Inumaki was hugging Panda.

“Let’s throw a party! A fancy one!” Itadori suggested, and everyone cheered. Gojo seemed very fond of the idea, as he laughed.

“Dress code is suit and tie, I’ll see you all in the common dining room at 8! Now if you excuse me, I have a party to plan!” Gojo jumped out of the bed, picked up his speaker, and sprinted out of the room. You came down from your bed and threw yourself into Toge’s arms, who pulled you closer in by your waist. You laughed and nuzzled into his neck happily; he was smiling proudly.

“Oh my god! We need to go shopping!” Nobara realized, grabbing Maki’s wrist and snatching you away from Inumaki to head out the door.

“Wait, I need my wallet!” You screamed, but Toge ran after you to give you the tote bag you carried for trips outside the school. You blew him a kiss as he waved you goodbye.

“I’m dressed so inappropriately to go out” Maki groaned as Nobara rushed you on.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand so no one flirts with you” Nobara beamed at her and then wink, making Maki fluster. You laughed and elbowed her in the ribs, wiggling your eyebrows.

“I can’t believe I'm going to have to third wheel today!” You laughed, watching as both women turned crimson.

Nobara insisted on shopping in the Harajuku district and looking at her eyes gleaming while passing different stores was like watching a kid in a candy store. Surprisingly, she was the pickiest one out of the three. Maki found her outfit first, a black blazer and pants combo with a black mesh button-up that had Nobara drooling. You found a black silk slip dress that reached down your calf, a slit on one of the legs with a loose neckline that reached down your collarbones. Nobara found a black dress that reached a bit down to her knees, it was strapless with a see-through long sleeve with roses. She laughed at the irony of it, considering the poison she was infected with last week manifested in roses on her skin. After that, you went to grab a bite, the three of you talking about everything, anything and nothing at the same time. You noticed the flirtatious remarks between your companions, happy that both had decided to move their attraction to flirting, rather than just staring at each other all the time. You returned to Jujutsu High around 3 PM, more exhausted than ever, you threw your bag to a corner, kicked off your sneakers, and threw yourself on the bed face down, falling asleep in that same starfish position.

“Aw, she’s asleep” You heard a voice comment. You thought it was only a dream and continued on napping. “Let’s just let her rest”

“Are you crazy? They promised to do our makeup! That’s three people already!” Another hushed voice chimed in.

“Tuna mayo” A third voice hummed. You were already back fast asleep as someone tried to shake you awake gently, only to fail miserably.

Toge sighed and squatted down, his face to level yours. Even with your mouth ajar, your duvet darkening from your saliva, and your slightly loud breathing, he loved how you looked so serene that what he was about to do next he found very cruel.

Delicately, he moved your hair away from your ear, swooping it to the other side of your face. Right there, he was taken away by your sleeping beauty; purples, oranges, and blues chiming into light your face as the sun went down. He sighed, half-smiling “Wake up”

He watched as your eyes popped open and you sat up, rigid. “What day is it?” You wondered, scratching your head and yawning, disoriented after the sudden surge of energy running through your body. Toge sat down by your side and placed his hand on your bare waist. You noticed lately he was even more touchy than usual.

“What day is it?” Nobara mocked you, a vein in her forehead palpitating. “You need to do our makeup! Hurry! You haven’t even showered!” She snatched you away from Toge and pushed you inside your bathroom. You heard a light ‘Tsk!’ outside from Inumaki, who has proven time to time really appreciate you being snatched away from him. “And you! Get out!” Kugisaki ushered him out of the room, slamming the door in his face.

“A little harsh, huh?” Maki said, turning to Nobara, who just rolled her eyes.

“I don’t care” She shrugged before taking out her hair straightener and a heat protector. You chuckled from inside the bathroom before taking your phone out of your pocket and connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker on the wall next to the bathroom mirror. You shuffled the playlist Toge made you a while ago and turned on the faucet.

“I hope you’re not going on a world tour right now! We don’t have time to listen to you all the way to your fiftieth stop in London!” You heard Nobara knock and shout at you from the other side of the door.

You rolled your eyes “Maki, keep your girl in check!” You shouted back before stripping and stepping into the shower. You were in the middle of your third song, washing the suds away from your body and giving your rendition of “Cognac Queen” by Megan Thee Stallion when Nobara opened the door and dragged you out of the shower. It became a struggle, and you were only able to grab the pink fluffy robe that hung on your door.

You fixed Maki’s hair by pulling it half up with a small claw clip, leaving her bangs out. Then you applied the lightest layer of makeup, with the dark eyeliner she requested. Nobara, on the other hand, asked for a full face with a red lip. On the other hand, you went for a light look, with a striking eye and a glossy lip. Then, the three of you rushed to get changed as you realized it was almost ten minutes before 8. As you exited the dorm, you wrapped a white ballerina-style cardigan, taking one last look at yourself at the entrance mirror before Nobara dragged you out of there. The three of you walked to the common room carefully, the door opened slightly.

You heard a couple whistles as you entered the room, you humored the boys, Nobara looked slightly mad while Maki ignored them. You realized that for the occasion Toge wasn’t wearing anything that covered his mouth, and made it evident it was a bit ajar watching you arrive. You said hello to the staff, greeting Nanami happily, who seemed pleased with your recovery and being slightly confused at why Utahime was there. You then headed over to greet your classmates, ending up with Toge.

“You look very handsome” You chuckled, and reached in to fix the strands of hair that fell on his forehead. He was wearing a sage green shirt, black trousers, and thin black suspenders. He shrugged a little and blushed as you touched him, leaning slightly into your touch.

“Shake” He nodded, and held your hand briefly, accepting the compliment. You blushed and looked down before taking your hand away from his face, afraid you were overstepping.

The party was light, everyone chatted and conversed lightly. Itadori seemed very busy on his phone, while Megumi spent all his energy trying to grab his attention. Yuuji called out for you, making you pull away from your conversation with Toge and Panda, who looked dashing in a yellow bow tie. He also called out for Panda. “I need your help,” He said nervously “I saw a speaker with lights in your room, can you go bring it here? Also, please wait at the entrance for someone. Panda, I need you as a distraction”

You excused yourself and left swiftly, fitting your cardigan once more. You walked the way up to your room, taking the squared-shaped, medium-sized speaker with half spheres on top, grabbing the aux cord just in case. Holding the speaker by its handle, you followed the trail to the entrance quietly.

“What is this?” You frowned upon seeing the students of the Kyoto sister school facing you. You raised your brows and Mai and Momo narrowed their eyes back to you, but the rest didn’t. Your eyes fell into the liquor store bags Todo held in his hands, then it all made sense. A smirk crept onto your face as Todo watched your change of expression and laughed. A party with the Kyoto students didn’t seem half as bad, and hey, maybe the stone-cold Soju can solve things out between everyone there.

Soon, you heard a couple of explosions and fireworks and some commotion coming from the common room. “Let’s go” You picked up the skirt of your dress a little to run a little easier, the rest following after you. You noticed everyone outside watching an impromptu firework show as you sneaked in the Kyoto students to the now dark room. Slowly, the rest of the Tokyo students sneaked back to the common room, Itadori locking the door in.

“Okay Panda, that was fun, but can we— huh?!” Gojo realized the locked doors and drawn windows. He tried to force the door open but it was closed shut.

“Oh finally. Can we go to a bar now?” Shoko sighed “Let them be Satoru, they’re in the blink of death every day, let them party”

“Can we all pretend they didn’t do that and we were here all the time chaperoning?” Gojo gave in easily, changing his usual blindfold to black, round sunglasses. Everyone made a noise in agreement and the staff left, feeling the bass pumping under their feet, the surges of different colored lights leaking out of the shut windows.

At first, the party was tense. Everyone was just staring at the other from across the room. You were busy in the background trying to plug in your phone and sync it to the speaker’s Bluetooth. Then, Todo gave a lengthy speech about sorority and brotherhood, and how you should all solve your differences so you could… get drunk and nasty together. In fact, it didn’t take long for the party to lighten up and turn into a club scene. By the third round of shots, mostly everyone was hot and bothered, all the tables moved aside to create a makeshift dance floor. Surprisingly, Panda was an incredible bartender, and he was out to kill; his drinks were packed with alcohol, but fruity and candied flavors hid it all and made it even more addicting. By your third drink, you ripped open the seam of the dress, creating another slit for you to move better.

You, Nobara, and the Zen’in twins were incredible dancers, but you didn’t really expect it from Itadori. He had all the spice down in his hips and the way he could shake his ass like his name was Cardi B. He joined in after his third shot with the song ‘Up’

“Broke boys don’t deserve no pussy!” Todo shouted to the song for the rest to respond.

“I know that’s right!” Everyone answered, except for Toge, before you continued dancing. Now more than ever you felt the euphoria of having money. First-grade sorcerers gave you a considerable amount of money, even if you were just a student.

“Yuuji!” Your mouth dropped to the floor, looking at him, before cheering him on along with the others. By the makeshift bar, a flustered Megumi joined by a sober Inumaki watched him dance, not knowing what he should do in that situation.

Then, as if you were reading his mind, you showed him what he should be doing; standing behind him and grabbing his hips. Soon as Nobara did the same with you, followed by Maki, followed by Mai, followed by Todo, making a train. On the other corner, there was some smoke coming up. You never thought you could have this much fun with people.

Another song started playing “It’s my homegirl, we got the same tattoos!” Itadori pulled you close to him while Todo recorded, and you laughed.

“Don’t accuse me of shit if you ain’t got proof!” You sang along, pointing to the camera, following along.

“What if we got matching tattoos?” Itadori turned to you, and you both frowned to think it hard.

“I think that’s enough” Megumi pulled your drink away from your hand.

“‘Gumi, relax. Go take a shot or a hit from Kamo in the corner, it’s a party! C’mon!” You pulled him to the dance floor, both him and Yuuji as you both threw it back on him to the song. This time, Megumi caught clues from earlier and shyly placed his hands on Itadori’s hips. You stopped and nodded, patting him on the back and walking away, a bit clumsily.

“Do we have any more water left?” You asked Panda, feeling your throat and eyes dry from the intoxicating substances. Panda nodded happily and gave you some water. You had reached your limit and decided it was time to sweat off the drinks and hydrate yourself.

“Oh my bad, that’s vodka,” He said as your mouth went into a thin line as you recognized the strong taste and scent. Inumaki snickered “Here”

“Tell me it’s not vinegar this time” You joked, taking a loud sniff of the liquid, and it was in fact, water. You took a large gulp, as you heard thunder followed by the soft pitter-patter of the rain. “Oh, it’s raining” You turned to Inumaki, who looked stunned at your drunken beauty. Your eyeliner was smudged, and so was your lipstick. There was some hair sticking to the nape of your neck due to the sweat. He could swear he saw some drops running down the small of your back. He gulped and looked away.

“You’ve been here all night, love; c’mon, let’s dance” You set your cup down and took Toge’s hand, pulling him out of his seat. The only reason this party was going along all well was that alcohol made you more straightforward, which made you all sultry towards your evident crush.

You noticed he was paler than usual “What’s wrong? Do I make you nervous?” You whispered in his ear, your hand slowly climbing from his hand all the way up to his neck, where you caressed the area. You never could have known alcohol made you that bold, and such a, well, maneater. At his lack of an answer, you just chuckled and took his hand, guiding him elsewhere.

Everyone at the dance floor greeted him more than enthusiastically, and suddenly, every insecurity Toge was holding deep inside of him throughout the whole party had disappeared. He blinked several times as you smiled at him as radiant as ever. “Let’s dance!” He nodded and smiled back. I love you.

[keilemlucent]

hands on

(r18+)

ao3

eraserhead | aizawa shouta x reader

word count: ~2k

anon asked: You could write something with Aizawa about how the reader might have just had their first kid or gained a lol weight/ their body has changed a lil and Aizawa just can’t get enough of it/ can’t keep his hands off you anymore??? 👀

oh say LESS (this was one of my baby warm up pieces, so unbeta’ed. enjoy!)

warnings: chubby reader, just smut, just nice cute p*rn

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Wintertime was somewhat miserable, that was a given. Snow and cold would roll in, making the outside somewhat unbearable for any length of time. It was far easier to cozy up inside, especially when it was with you.

Shouta had called off patrol, having gotten injured enough the night prior for it to be warranted.

(You also bribed/nagged him with a new, warm recipe in exchange for self-care and an evening in, but that’s beside the point).

He’d spent most of his day off napping, lying on the couch half asleep. You hardly minded, working away in the kitchen and whispering idly to the cats. You both knew he needed the rest.

It was later on, in one of his more wakeful moments, that Shouta noticed something.

You had gotten... thicker.

It was probably your more sedentary tendencies during winter, and the fact that you had been cooking more, but it was undeniable that you had gained a bit of weight.

Shouta watched you from the couch, feigning sleepiness so he could drink in his new discovery.

You were only wearing one of his big t-shirts, soft with use, and a cute pair of panties from an older lingerie set, colored a cute baby pink. With so little on, it was easy to see the new roundness of your middle. Shouta felt his dick twitch at the thought of leaving the plushness of your inner thighs painted red and purple by his mouth. He just loved the way your skin bruised so well for him.

Fuck.

You stretched up to a cupboard, a high one. Your shirt slid up as well, showing more of your winter weight and God, Shouta was losing it. How had he not noticed?

The meat of your hips was thicker, love handles more prominent, maybe carrying a few extra stretch marks. Shouta swore he could see the extra chub of your stomach.

All he wanted was to worship your new flesh and skin while buried in your cunt.

The thought made his cock leak.

He was up in an instant, sliding behind you as you moved down from the cupboard.

You jumped a little when you felt his hands sliding over your hips through your shirt.

Turning, you flashed him a cheeky grin, “How are you doing, sleepy?”

“Very good,” Shouta practically purred, squeezing you. “Need any help?”

You leaned back into him, tilting your head to press a nip and a kiss into his jaw, “I’m alright. Food should be ready pretty soon.”

Shouta very much wanted a different sort of meal than the one you were so diligently preparing. He had other appetites to sate.

“How long?” He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear, relishing the way your body fell back into him.

“Mmmmmm,” You hummed, looking back at the oven. “Maybe half an hour. Why?”

Shouta was already lifting your shirt to get to your squishier bits.

His hands went to cup your ass, making him damn near moan at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the warmth of your skin.

Had you always been this soft? It was winter, your skin should’ve been far drier. Then again, Shouta had been busy lately. Perhaps he hadn’t been tending to you and your body like he should’ve been, making it all the easier for your incredibly cute weight gain to pass him by.

He doesn’t waste any time, hauling you up by your ass, forcing your legs to wrap his waist. You let out a shocked gasp, hands going to clasp behind Shouta’s neck to keep some semblance of balance. It’s not like Shouta would ever let you fall, but the sensation of suddenly getting dumped onto the kitchen island was a bit jarring.

“S-Shouta?” You asked as he gently pushed you down onto the icy granite of the countertop.

God, his dick twitched at the slight tremor in your voice. Your shoulders hit the countertop as he licked a stripe up the fragile skin of your neck. Your hands were wound into the back of his shirt, legs trembling around his waist.

His hands were all over you.

Your shirt was pushed up to your neck, the cold air biting at you just as much as Shouta was. His worn hands couldn’t stop finding new places to touch. They sought out and claimed every bit of new flesh they could, squeezing and leaving crescent imprints.

The way he already sunk into your body made him melt. You were all warm sounds and keening moans that certainly hardened his cock just the same.

His hands skirted over your tummy, feeling the extra fat and squishing it between his fingers. Shouta was surprised as stuttering, low whine came from your mouth.

Oh.

Your head turned bashfully to the side bottom lip caught in teeth while you absolutely trembled.

Shouta ran a hand over your curves once more, taking careful note of how your eyes squeezed shut and your thighs clenched around his waist.

You were very into this too, weren’t you?

Shouta gave a low chuckle, leaning to lick and kiss up to your tummy and chest, hands all too happy to keep up with your mutual desires. Dinner be damned, snow outside forgotten; you were to be fucked well and proper.

“W-what brought this on?” You managed to ask, breath hitches as Shouta slides his hand over your sex.

He toyed with the elastic at the seam of your panties, humming, “Just noticed how cute you are.”

You rolled your eyes at that, half-snorting and tangling a hand in Shouta’s dark hair, “I think you notice that most of the time. Why jump me during dinner?”

Shouta hummed to himself for a minute, thumb rubbing over your clothed clit. You shook against him, head falling so prettily against the island beneath you.

“I just really love all of you,” Shouta’s voice came out husky and low as he left a sharp bite on your collar bone. “Just realized there’s a little more to love, hm?”

That made a blush of pure crimson dance over your cheekbones as you turned your head from him. Just bashful enough to be cute, and still very into things if the pressure of your thighs on his waist was any estimate.

Your attention was quickly brought back to him as he pulled your panties to the side to slip two thick fingers into your sex.

“Fuck, Shouta!” You cried out, back arching as his fingers curled.

His free hand took to massaging any part of you that it could. Your nipples were rubbed raw by toughened thumbs and your love handles would certainly be bruised the next day.

His fingers pumped slowly in and out of your cunt, stretching and spreading you just enough to be ready for his cock. Shouta truly wanted nothing more than to be buried within the plushness of your thighs and pussy, but he wasn’t about to prepare you half-assedly.

You melted over the counter for him, breath coming out in cute puffs and gasps. Shouta lavished you with kisses to your tummy and thighs, drowning in every part of you.

He withdrew his fingers with a pop, sucking them clean. You whined so sweetly for him, starting to sit up, eyeing his obvious bulge with hungry eyes.

“Not today, kitten,” Shouta purred, rolling your shoulders back into the island. “Maybe later if you want a snack, hm?”

The high, sweet noise that came strangled from your lips made him fuckingmelt.

Shouta didn’t even bother fully taking off his sweats. He just pulled the fabric down enough for his fully hardened cock to pop up.

You visibly gulped.

“I’d love to give you a taste,” Shouta licked his lips at the thought of your pretty mouth stretched around his cock. “But, you do have dinner in the oven, hm?”

You could only frown for a moment before Shouta hiked your legs over his shoulder. Your feet hooked behind his head, trying to drag him closer to you.

You whined, slicked lips parted, “ P-please, Shou’ ”

“Hmmm?” Shouta hummed, pressing a stray kiss to the underside of your breast. Your legs were pressed against your heaving chest as you shook (already) for him. “Want my cock, kitten?”

You nodded quickly for him, shifting your hips with impatience. You normally were more well behaved than this, but Shouta decided to indulge you this once. You were certainly indulging him, letting him throw you up over the countertop while in the middle of cooking.

Shouta was sure you'd complain a little bit about whatever slick and sweat was left on the countertop. He was also sure that you’d have no qualms with licking it up yourself if he gave the incentive of getting his cock down your throat.

But, that was for later.

Shouta teased along your folds, laying a hand flat on your pudgy stomach. He eased in slowly, letting out his own shaking cursed as he felt you physically fill up for him through your tummy.

“ Fuck,” It was all he could push out as you clenched down around him, pulling him closer.

You pulled him into a sweet kiss, one hand loosely cupping his jaw as he slowly pulled back.

He left hand-shaped bruises on your hips as he squeezed down your rounded hips, eyes rolling back in his head as he thrust quickly and harshly back into you.

You let out your own lovely, keening stream of sounds as he began to pound into you.

It was almost overwhelming to Shouta, how much of you he wanted to feel and hold of you at the same time. One of his hands stayed constantly clutching at one of your love handles, while the other greedily felt up the rest of you.

He gave soft encouragement to you, pouring like sweet cream from his lips; all loving remarks and sentiments about your body, the way it looked, and felt against his own.

Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose as your slick dribbled (as prophesized) onto the countertop below. Your back arched so well for him as his thumb drifted over your clit a few times.

“Do you want to come, baby?” Shouta’s voice oozed over you, all low and rumbling. Your hold on his shoulders tightened as you nodded, pulling at him to press your lips together.

Shouta obliged.

You kiss him with everything you had. He could tell by the way your hands tugged in his hair, tongue licking into his mouth as you moaned and cried for him.

His torso pressed down into the meat of your own, squishing you in the counter as he fucked you without rest. His hand felt and squeezed whenever they could, drinking in every morsel of your figure. It just made his dick get harder even as he was plowing into you. He was only spurred by feeling the way your cunt fluttered and dripped for him.

The pads of his fingers circled your clit, pressing and keeping rhythm as you so beautifully came undone.

Shouta’s free hand gripped your hip as you came for him, bearing down on his cock as he stilled in tandem. He couldn’t help his own release when you just were so fucking stunning. Having you spread out for him, slick skin pressing to his own, already had him halfway from the start.

You kissed Shouta again as he fucked into you once, twice, and a third time as your shuddering sex milked his cock dry. With a soft sigh, you pulled away, eyes shiny.

You gave him a cute smile, breathlessly kissing the corner of his mouth.

Shouta did his best to help you lean forward, sitting on the countertop.

“So,” Your voice was scratchy as you beamed at him. “Dinner?”

As fate would have it, your timer went off a moment later.

Shouta could only chuckle, smothering you in kisses, unable to keep his hands off you for long.

[b0bby-james]

I’ve been feeling down and stressed out for what feels like a year now. I add extra things to my plate to help myself in the future but I’m currently miserable. I’m not enjoying any aspect of my life right now. My love life sucks, my job is overwhelming and time consuming, school is an added stressor, my friends and family are all distant and it’s just like I can’t lose my cool. I’ve been on autopilot since last April. I haven’t had a chance to take a deep breathe in months. I need to get everything straightened out and it’s taking longer than usual. I keep asking God to prepare me for change and forget about this part. The year of just emptiness. A dull year. No fun. Not even fucking feeling good about myself and the way I look most of the time. Wanting to cry. Wanting to punish myself when I’m not doing anything bad but working. I’ve been silent and everyone around me is congratulating me on my reliance or my demeanor and I’m really fucking miserable. I have so much to be grateful for and I don’t want to ignore that but I feel so unfulfilled. I feel so empty. I can turn all my bad into good. I have a job that is lenient and acknowledges my hard work, I don’t go without anything, I’m getting a good education at a great school, my friends and family love me and have their own lives to cater to but nonetheless they love me and will do anything for me. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter who I become or how much older I get sometimes the version of me who used to lie on the floor crying comes back to remind me she’s never leaving me. I need the 2020 version of me back. Bring me back to 23/24. 25 has me wanting to pick up and leave everything behind. I can’t explain in words how empty I feel.

[uwuwriting]

Tamaki and Mirio when their girlfriend over works herself

Request: Um since you are dying bc of school and I feel for you I present to you my comfort request for Mirio and tamaki dealing with their girlfriend when she over works herself. Remember to stay hydrated and to get some sleep. - anonymous

Umm comfort content is best content if I do say so myself. I’m trying to get my shit in line and I’m failing miserably. YAY. We stan a disaster of a writer. But yeh anyways. Hope you enjoy. Love ya.💖💖💖

rules 

masterlist 

warnings: stress and exhaustion, fluff and comfort.

Amajiki Tamaki

-He has seen the way you have been stressing over your grades lately. 

-He knows that it’s your last year and everything is piling up, hero studies and training plus the extra load of work your teachers give you. 

-The thing is you always get everything done on time and he has never seen you working so hard and non stop before. 

-It kinda scares him. 

-He holds himself back from saying anything, afraid of over stepping and offending you or making you angry which trust me was impossible.

-You could never be angry at him he is baby. 

-His tipping point came on a Friday morning when he came down from his room only to find you still perched on the same spot he had left you last night. 

-Multiple cups of coffee were scattered all around you and he could hear your music blasting through your headphones. 

-You must have put it on full blast in hopes of staying awake. 

-He knows that sometimes you would pull all nighters in order to get some extra work done and as lond as those one nighters were far in between he was okay with it. 

-He himself did it sometimes. 

-But he knew that this was the fourth one this month and the second one this week. 

-Taking off your headphones, completely ignoring your whines of protest he pulled you up circling one arm around your waist and holding you close while the other one started gathering your stuff. 

-After your fair share of kisses and a healthy breakfast he waited for you to get dressed. 

-He kept an eye on you the whole day and would snatch any book out of your hands during your breaks, his shyness replaced by pure and flaming concern. 

-After class he led you to his room and set you on his bed, wrapping you up in a blanket like a smol burrito and putting on a movie. 

-I kid you not, the moment your head met his chest you fell asleep. 

-And you wouldn’t wake up!

-He thought you died.

-Thankfully after a 14 hour nap you woke up, refreshed and dehydrated asking Tamaki if he wanted to go out today. 

-For a split second he half expected you to go back to studying but your idea of a date was a pleasant surprise. 

-And who was he to say no to you????

-Your date was really fun and Tamaki was heppy to see some color returne to your cheeks. 

-He knew that you got stressed easily and he would always try to find a way to help you. 

-He just couldn’t let the love of his life wither away in the hands of that damned calculus homework or those biology essays. 

Togata Mirio

*I swear to GOD I’ll get this tattooed on my BACK*

-Here is someone who isn’t as observant as Tamaki. 

-It takes him a few days to realize that you are overdoing it with the homework. 

-In reality it takes a date rejection. 

-It was a beautiful day outside and he wanted to have a picnic with his best girls, you and Eri.

-He had everything set up and made an overly dramatic invitation but was shot down by a very VERY exhausted no I have to study. 

-Boy started watching you like a hawk after that. 

-Then he noticed your patern. 

-You would sleep for about an hour after class, thinking you were making up for the hours you were missin during the night and then you would sit down in your room and wouldn’t get up until well into the night. 

-To be precise your light would go off at 3 am. 

-Boyo is huh devestated. 

-His baby is basically killing herself wth. 

-So he will just insert himself into your study sessions. 

-Since he knows how hard you are working and how much you want to succeed he can’t just straight up ask you to stop studying, that would be unfair. 

-What he could do though was help you with small breaks. 

-He would bring you bento boxes and your favorite snacks, would buy your favorite drinks and would ask you to take a walk with him every few hours. or generally spend some time with him. 

-He of course explained to you that he was worried about your health with the amount of studying you were doing. 

- “It’s not health babe.”

-He would ask you to talk to him, tell him your worries and rant to him about overwhelming projects, say something stupid you saw or play that new song that randomly popped up in your playlist. 

-He would help you get your mind off things for some time giving you the energy you needed in order to go back to studying. 

-The only thing that he would be adamant about was your sleeping schedule. 

-He literally migrated to your room but because your bed is kinda small he moved you to his instead. 

-After midnight he will always get up and just yeet your textbook out of your grasp picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, making his way to his bathroom to get you ready. 

-Then he would just plop you onto his bed and fall asleep.

-Try to get up during the night to secretly study I dare you. 

-This man senses EVERYTHING you cannot hide child. 

-So just go to sleep. 

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @bemorefiction​ @dnarez-mangetsu​

[insomniamamma]

Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

______________________________________________________________________

He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name?           It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself.           The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark.             "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?"             "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside.             "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it.            "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths.            "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry.            "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear.            "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local.            "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground."            "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--"            "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You  will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?"           "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items.           "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels.           Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes.           "You should have let me shoot him,"           "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing."            "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--"            "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze.           "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

          Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee.           It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself.           "Hey, Cee?"           "Mmmh?"           "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question.            "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

          "Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face. 

          "If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee.           "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you.           "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day.          "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle."           "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat.           "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee.           "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh.           "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

[meichenxi]

*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid. 

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story. 

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice. 

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose? 

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then. 

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some. 

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind. 

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them. 

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that. 

suddenly, no one sees her at all. 

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own. 

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are - 

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway. 

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things?? 

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity. 

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.   

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me. 

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time. 

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved. 

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most. 

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily. 

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life. 

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good. 

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side. 

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Haikyuu sick/hurt characters headcanons: Karasuno edition!

⚠️ sickness, injuries, phobias, allergies and correlated symptoms ahead. If these themes upset you, proceed with caution. If you use these, credit me, please. ⚠️

Sawamura Daichi:

He doesn't let anyone know when he's sick. He'll show up to practise with a fever of 39°C and say that he's fine if someone points out how warm he is ("It's just overextertion. If you're not warm, it means you haven't been exercising well!")

He doesn't actually believe that he's fine, he knows his limits, but he just doesn't want to alarm anyone.

Luckily, he always manages to hold on until he reaches the bathroom if he's feeling pukey.

When he does get sick, he's very quiet and discreet. He always tries to go back to what he was doing before, insisting that he's okay.

When he's sick or hurt, the other third-years can see through his "I'm okay!" act (remember that time he hit his head and insisted that he was fine to play?), and know how miserable he really feels, so they force him to take it easyー he's no match for Suga, who will use mild violence if that's what it takes to make Daichi give up and rest.

Sugawara Kōshi:

He's anemic, cue to his constantly cold hands (and feet). Because of this, he takes iron pillsー or he should, because he forgets more often than not.

When he forgets the pills, he gets dizzy and weak, and needs to sit down for a bit. Once, he passed out due to anemia during practise, and he doesn't want to repeat that ever again, so he's extra cautious.

It's easy to understand when he's feverish, because he gets unexpectedly sleepy and quiet. He will fall asleep in class without even realising it if his temperature's any higher than 37,5°C.

He rarely gets hurt, but when that happens nobody's sure if he's okay or not. It's not that he denies it, but he simply doesn't say anything ("why didn't you say anything sooner!?" "B-because you didn't ask..?")

Once, he twisted his ankle and walked on it for a little less than thirty minutes before actually asking the coach if he could go get himself some ice. Of course, they didn't send him to get the icepack, but he had to sit there and listen as Coach Ukai yelled at him for not speaking up sooner.

Azumane Asahi:

He gets anxiety-induced stomach aches very often, and that's why he's used to feeling dizzy and to puking. Vomit doesn't scare him anymore.

Whenever he's sick, he runs away from the others; he needs to flee, far away. He loves his teammates, but he's scared that they'll accidentally overwhelm him further, and he doesn't want them to feel guilty.

This man can't stand the sight of blood. Like, at all, not even a little. Not even in movies. When Shimizu got a shallow paper cut, the Coach actually had to physically support him when getting him seated on a bench.

He broke his left index finger when he was a first-year, and as soon as he saw the bone sticking out of the skin (it looked worse than what it really was) he fell backwards and on a very concerned Sugawara without a word.

Cue to lots of tears and puke on the way to the hospital. He was inconsolable, but when Daichi had the idea to hide the injury from his eyes, Asahi managed to calm down a bit. In every situation, it's not the injury that scares him, but the blood.

Nishinoya Yuu:

He's reckless, he won't even notice when he gets injured. Since he's so used to bruises, bumps and shallow cuts, he doesn't understand when he's actually injured.

This guy played a whole set with a sprained wrist before realising that "hey, this feels kinda weird..?" and he didn't tell anyone until the end of the game, when his wrist was visibly swollen.

High pain tolerance plays a major role when he's injured or sick. Still, the others wish he would have a more average pain tolerance, because, once, Nishinoya felt sick during math class, and still claimed he was fine. He thought he was.

When he was rushed to the hospital due to a "mild ache in his lower stomach" that had been going on for two days after the math class incident, along with a 38,7°C fever, he was told that he had appendicitis ("I thought I just ate something bad or that I needed to take a huge dump! How was I supposed to know!? I thought I was fine."). It was clear that he wasn't, in fact, fine.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

He will try to toughen everything out and ignore the pain until it gets unbearable. Be it an injury or some sickness, he will automatically ignore it if he doesn't think it's serious enough to be life-threatening.

That's why he almost died when he ate one of the peanut butter cookies that Yachi had baked. Turns out, allergies do existー but he wished he'd found out in a different way. Sometimes, "My throat's kinda itchy. Does my tongue look... too big? It... it feels too big." can be synonym of "Hospital, now." Bless Takeda-sensei.

The time when he collided with Daichi, Tanaka completely ignored the fact that his arm hurt, and only realised when he took his shirt off in the locker-room and heard a screech from Yamaguchi. The bruise went from his shoulder to his elbow, blue and swollen. Cue to lots of pain relief cream and ice packs.

Ennoshita Chikara:

He never broke a bone in his whole life, but he's very good at dealing with it when it happens to someone else. He's just fascinated by how the human body works, and sometimes people think he's being cold in front of someone else's pain, when he's really just being logical.

He's good at dealing with his own pain too, though he rarely gets hurt or sick.

When he gets sick, he recovers pretty rapidly, but this leads him into relapse. That's why he's not allowed back to practise for a whole week after he recovers ("I'm fine. I've been fine for three days already, my fever wasn't even that high..." "Last time you said you were fine, you almost got pneumonia. Go home.").

He gets bad allergies during spring, and takes a lot of antihistamine pills which make him sleepy. He often has to excuse himself from class to go take a nap in the infirmaryー the teachers and the nurse know, so they always allow him to.

Narita Kazuhito:

This man is the embodiment of health. His diet and lifestyle will probably allow him to live until past the age of 100.

That's why he's not used to getting sick. And when he does, he's a confused mess with no idea of what to do with himself.

When he puked on himself after practise he was so shocked that he chuckled nervously and stood still, frozen, until Kinoshita and Ennoshita dragged him to the bathroom. He almost found the whole ordeal funny.

Kinoshita Hisashi:

He really despises vegetables and fruit, and often gets mocked because of it. He often stuffs himself with sweets and fried food until he feels sick ("But... how? That cake had strawberries in it! It's supposed to be healthy!").

He gets very bad seasickness. Once, his friends decided to drag him to Miyajima: he spent the time on the ferry and first hour on the island puking his guts out.

The thing he doesn't do good with is fainting: if someone passes out in front of him, he does the same, always. When Daichi passed out in the middle of the court, Kinoshita was thankful that Narita was there to hold him up, because he was ready to leave the land of the living.

Kageyama Tobio:

Always denies everything ("my nose is not bleeding!!") and this only makes everything worse for him. If he feels shaky, he won't take a clue and sit down; instead, he'll push himself and end up falling down on whoever's closest to him ("Daichi-san, nice receive!" "Now's really not the time, Hinata...").

When he gets sick, he gets sick hard. The flu has him puking all day long, with a fever of 39.5°C that, he insists, is not that high. His family and friends are smart enough to understand that he's lying. Not even the doctors and nurses at the E.R. can convince him that he's sick.

To be fair, he does not lie when he says that he's not hurt or sick: he genuinely thinks that whatever's going on with him is normal and not that bad.

He accidentally tripped on the leg of a desk in class, and fell face first into the teachers'. The deep, bleeding cut on his forehead wasn't enough for him to understand that he needed to go to the infirmary, and he just sat back at his desk, apologising for the mess. Turns out that his "little cut" needed six stitches in the end, and that his "mild headache" was, in fact, a mild concussion. He showed up to practise the following day anyway, and the Coach had to physically prevent him from joining.

He doesn't do good with nausea, though; he doesn't mind fevers, joint-pains, blood, bruises, or the act of throwing up itself. But when he feels nauseous he actively wishes to pass out, because anything is better than dealing with feeling like that. That's why he'd rather stick his fingers down his throat to get rid of the nausea already than waiting for it to pass naturally.

This got worse when he started suffering from migraines. As soon as he feels one starting to build behind his eye, he throws himself over the toilet, waiting for the dreaded nausea to come so that he can get rid of it before it gets too bad. He stays like that for hours if that's what it takes.

Hinata Shōyō:

He pukes a lot, and for a number of reasons: nervousness, motion sickness, fear, hungerー this guy can't even take it to the bathroom.

His guts are a mess, and he either vomits or poops every time he feels any strong emotion (which is...pretty often, for him). Thank goodness his friends always have pills that help with motion sickness with them, along with antiacid pills and sparkling water, and that Kiyoko and Yachi often restock the bus and everyone's backpacks with paper bags.

The higher the fever, the more he moves. Ever since he was a kid, a fever has never stopped him, and to be fair, fevers make him feel more motivated and energetic. He takes "Hey, no. Sit down, drink up, and rest." as an insult because "I'm fine. You're benching me because you think I suck, huh!? But I was doing fine! I- I was being good, right..?"

Yes, fevers make him emotional. He'll cry for anything once they make him admit that he's sick. He mostly cries because "How could I get sick? I'm going to be useless! I should've paid more attention, I should've been better!" but Kageyama knows for sure that he saw a feverish Hinata crying over a picture of his sister, for some reason.

He doesn't mind blood when he's the one to be bleeding, but if it's someone else, he freaks out. Seeing someone else having a bloody nose or bleeding from some injury, even small and insignificant, makes his stomach flip.

Tsukishima Kei:

He's never said "I'm in pain." in his whole life. The most honest statement he managed to grit out was "It kinda hurts.", but he never said anything more than that. He won't show himself being so vulnerable, ever.

Whenever he has to go to the optometrist, he won't eat anything for at least half a day before the appointment, because he knows for sure that he's going to throw up after the doctor dilatates his pupils.

He's a quiet puker, and he always locks himself up in the bathroom, which can be dangerous in those situations. After that time when he passed out after throwing up, his mother got an extra key of the bathroom, and always lingers close to the door when she knows that her son's about to be sick.

If anyone tries to interrupt him when he throws up or when he's in acute pain, he will yell at them. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the help, but he hates how everything feels so crowded around him when he's down. The only person who's brave enough to help him when he's like that is Yamaguchi, mostly because he's used to hearing his angry words (even if Tsukishima's never insulted him personally).

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Terribly emetophobic, he won't throw up even if he has to. He just won't do that, no way... Which is cruelly ironic, since he gets sick pretty often due to anxiety and weak immune system. Tsukishima doesn't mind helping him out (but he would never step close to anyone else when they're sick) but he can be a bit rough sometimes; this both reassures and agitates Yamaguchi. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if you don't throw up now." doesn't sound too kind, but when Tsukishima adds "it'll make you feel better, I promise." Yamaguchi feels a bit calmer. He’s also a loud puker.

He's a type-2 diabetic, though he has it under control and hasn't had any problem related to that in a while, not since the beginning of middle school, at least. Still, sometimes he needs to reluctantly sit practise out because he's obviously too shaky and weak to strain himself that much. When that happens, they all make sure that someone sits with him to make him feel less alone... and he appreciates it immensely.

He's on anxiety meds, but they make him feel dizzy sometimes, which leads him into a spiral of panic for fear that he'll get sick. It's a huge contradiction, really, and he hates it with his whole soul.

He's one of the people in the team who can handle others' sickness and injuries better; it might shock him for a second, but he's ready to jump into action and solve the problem in order to help his friends out.

Injuries don't scare him, though the worst thing that ever happened to him was when he got punched in the face by a bully. He also broke his arm in middleschool once though he doesn't remember muchー maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was that it hurt less than he imagined. The punch freaked him out more than that.

Yachi Hitoka

She's a good caretaker, but an absolute mess when it comes to taking care of her own injuries and sickness.

She's clumsy so she's not new to bruises and cuts, but this doesn't mean that she doesn't freak out a bit whenever she sees blood on her legs or arms. On their way home from school, one day, Hinata and Yamaguchi decided to get her band-aids with little chicks and kittens on them. She finished the 30-pack in less than a month.

She got her period a bit late in life, a couple of months before turning 15, and whenever she's on her period, it hits her like a train at full-speed in the guts. Kiyoko taught her some yoga moves that help with the cramps, and the boys never bother the two of them when they see them doing yoga in the corner of the gym. In fact, they also bought her an electric heating pad for her birthday along with an indecent amount of chocolate that didn't fit in Yachi's bag (and various other presents not concerning periods).

Shimizu Kiyoko:

The scars on her legs are fully healed, yet the skin there is thinner, and so the wounds reopen whenever she accidentally hurts herself there. They sting quite a bit, and though it's unusual, she hisses out loud when it's bad. Everyone agreed to make sure that medkit is always equipped with antiseptic cream. To this day, Kiyoko insists that it isn't necessary, but they disagree.

She always knows what to do when someone else feels sick, but she's unsure about what she'd do in case of her own sickness. She hasn't been sick in too long to know.

She hasn't gotten a cold since elementary school, and that one time when she thought she'd caught something, when she sneezed at the age of 16, it was actually just a bit of dust allergy. She doesn't even need meds for it.

Takeda Ittetsu:

He hardly gets sick, but he ends up hunched over the toilet more often than not after a Friday night out with his friends. He drinks quite a bit for a teacher, but only when he knows that he can do that without compromising his career or setting the wrong example. Hangovers also leave him a messy wreck, and that's why he only drinks on Fridays: that way, he has until Sunday night to recover.

For someone who's constantly surrounded by teenagers, he doesn't get sick much. He catches a cold every now and then, but nothing more serious than that. And when he's sick, he always tries to prevent the others from catching what he's got, without actually taking care of himself to heal.

Once, he got a fever of 40,1°C and luckily for him Ukai was coming over to discuss about the volleyball club; he found Takeda sprawled face-down in front of the open door. He was boiling, so Ukai took him to the hospital where he stayed for two days. ("I didn't think it was this bad." "So you knew you had a fever and still went to work?" "Yeah, but I had a mask on so that the others could be safe." "And you didn't buy medicine in the meantime?" "Ah, no." "...what the hell!?").

Ukai Keishin:

He catches a cold every other month, no matter how many layers of clothes he wears. These colds are often accompanied by low fevers, but he's used to those so he simply chugs some orange juice and moves on.

He tried to quit smoking countless times, especially since he started coaching these kids, but he can't help smoking at least three of cigs per day. Still, sometimes his chest aches a bit, and maybe it's just paranoia, but when that happens he doesn't touch tobacco for a couple of days.

His liver would even be able to survive Takeda's nights out; his guts, in general, are strong and he swears he's never felt nauseous in his whole life.

💫 I might think of more sick karasuno hc soon, but that's it for now. Expect more characters hc soon! Again, credit me if you use these, and please feel free to share this post! 💫

[justasimplesinner]

Christmas fluff with Jonathan Crane

this is a bday present to the one and only @froppydeloppy i hope you’ll enjoy it darl! i tried to make it extra fluffy, but - because i’m a dumb bitch - there’s a sprinkle of angst. with happy ending tho!

***

          Stressful - that's the only way to describe what was going on right now. Everyone was in a rush, some buying late Christmas presents, some just panicking over every little imperfection in their perfect little world. Streets were filled with busy crowds, bright lights and loud noise consisting of but not limited to shouts, cars honking and children screaming bloody murder in the best of ways. It could get overwhelming sometimes, this whole Christmas frenzy going on all around the world. But in your home? It was calm. 

Supper was almost ready, batches of cookies laid out on the coffee table along with a bottle of wine, and the smell of hot cocoa filled the room. The fireplace was burning, some of the decorations you put days back shining with the firelight and dim but colorful light coming from your little tree. It wasn't big or fancy or bright-colored enough to cause an epilepsy attack, but it was lovely and perfect as it was - especially since you decorated it with him. 

Jonathan was currently sitting in the armchair he claimed as his, long legs stretched out, book in hand, in an oversized turtleneck sweater and you'd lie if you said it wasn't the best view. The way light reflected in his glasses and the gentle glow that got caught on his sharp cheekbones, boney, slender fingers unconsciously caressing the edge of his thick volume - that habit more often than not led to hundreds of little papercuts littering his skin, a quiet, muttered "shit!" as he put the "wounded" digit up to his lips to ease the pain.

It was the little things about him that always brought a smile to your face - or any things, really, as long as they were about him.

– How much longer do you plan to stare at me? – he drawled from his spot, a small smile clear in his voice, as your own grin got that little bit wider at hearing his nasally voice.

– As long as it takes for you to finally pay attention to me. – you mused playfully, resting your chin on your hand. You never ceased your staring. He never got back to his book. 

Instead, he carefully placed an old receipt he used as a bookmark between the pages, and with utter gentleness closed it shut then put it down on the pile next to him. Half of his lanky body leaned out of the armchair as he copied your position and looked you in the eyes with that smirk you'd never get enough of.

– Your dinner is going to burn. – amusement laced his words as his eyes bore into your own. His gaze was always intense, always calculating but never cold - not to you, at least. You liked to believe that the way he looked at you was with love, but with him, it was hard to tell. It has, after all, been almost three years and he still had trouble saying it out loud.

But you knew he cared, and he cared deeply. Deep enough to sit here with you, today, and let you pamper him for once. Deep enough to be comfortable with you, let himself relax and stop being paranoid for once in his life.

– It's your dinner too, jackass. You promised you'd stay for once. – you chuckled, scrunching your nose up at him before kissing the bridge of his own and getting up. You really had to check on that dinner - it'd be a shame if all the hard work you put in would be wasted just because you couldn't stop staring at the wanted criminal you were currently harboring in your house.

– And I intend to keep it. – it was unlike him to spill out reassurances so quickly and so honestly, but that didn't mean you didn't appreciate it. You were surprisied, yes, but ever grateful as well. The Christmas spirit was getting even to the biggest of grumps, it seemed.

– You better. I can't eat everything by myself and I made pumpkin pie for you. – you threatened jokingly, heading to the kitchen and it was a damn shame you didn't see the lovestruck smile on his face. But he only smiled like that when you weren't looking, after all.

          Taking out the meat from the oven, and putting a finishing touch on everything went smoothly and it didn't take long before every dish was placed on the table, cutlery got laid out and glasses were full of wine. You were just taking off your apron in the kitchen, about to join Jonathan and finally eat the goodies you made but his lanky frame blocking the doorway stopped you in your tracks.

God, he was so tall he had to lean down to even get through the door.

– What is it? – you asked, coming up to him, but he never stepped back from you like he usually did, didn't even budge and his eyes never strayed away from your own, that piercing gaze looking right into your soul. And once he deemed you near enough, you watched him straighten and if you weren't so close his forhead would be obscured by the doorframe.

It reminded you of the way he used to hit his head on the top of it the first few times he came over to your place. And it was only when you chuckled and slightly leaned your head back that you understood what he seemingly wanted to tell you without using a single word.

There was a mistletoe just above you. Funny, you didn't remember putting it there.

– You absolute sap. – you laughed, shaking your head as his smirk only grew in size and he leaned down, a little awkwardly since he insisted on keeping his hands in his pockets, to just a little above your eye level.

– Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic at heart, hm? – you almost snorted right in his face. Both of you knew he hated Romanticism and the mere idea of romance all together. Of course, what you two had definitely wasn't platonic, and you did love each other in a romantic sense (you hoped), but that didn't change anything.

– More like romantically hopeless. – and with that, you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, feeling him sigh into the kiss. Your noses bumped and he almost lost his balance but it was perfect nonetheless. 

Too bad you didn't have time for that since the food was getting cold.

          The dinner was pleasant. It didn't really feel special at all, but that's what made it even more perfect - Jonathan wasn't here, with you, because it was the right thing to do (pha! as if he cared about what was right or wrong), but because he wanted to be here. He wasn't here to celebrate anything, he was here for you and for you only and that in itself was the best Christmas gift you could ever wish for.

And speaking of gifts...

– This is way too big for me to be comfortable with it. – he complained, taking the carefully wrapped box from under the tree. You insisted on having the presents there - it was a tradition, one Jon probably never practiced, not even as a child. It might not bring him as much joy as it would to a six year old, but you wanted this to be the best Christmas in his miserable life.

– Oh, it's just the packaging. Stop complaining. – you laughed, rolling your eyes and sitting down on the floor next to where he was kneeling. After giving you a funny look, he sat down on the carpet as well, partly crossing his long legs so as not to kick the tree over.

That'd be a story to tell, for sure.

– If this is over twenty dollars, I'm not accepting it. – he warned, sending you a serious look but you only shook your head, pushing at his arm.

– Just open it, dammit! – you wanted to get this over with, because - despite everything - you were still nervous he wouldn't like it. Maybe it was too obvious? Maybe he already had it? Maybe he'd think you half-assed the whole thing? Good lord, it was stressful. Especially watching those spindly, skilled fingers carefully unwrapping the thing, almost teasingly slow. You didn't put it besides him to make you more nervous on purpose.

After all, you were scared. Scared of what he'd think. And that's what usually gets him going.

You almost swore his hands shook when he was lifting the lid of the box, as if he was expecting something to blow up in his face. Ah yes, the paranoia...

– A scarf. – he muttered and boy, wasn't it a careful observation on his part! You laughed quietly, heartbeat slowing a little. Of course it was a scarf, what else? But it was only a part of the present, too. He was in for a surprise.

– Well, I got tired from hearing your larynx screaming for help because you walk around with your neck bare. – you said with a wide smile, and it'd be a lie to say you weren't delighted to see him beaming back at you – C'mon, take it out! – you rushed and it was then that he froze as he tried to take it out and felt something... hard beneath it.

– For God's sake, there's more? I only got you one thing! – he whined loudly like a baby, and you just huffed, snuggling up closer to him to carefully watch his reaction as he got to the second part of your present.

– What can I say? I like to spoil. – you mused with a smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder but that only made him get more defensive.

– I'm not some child to be spoiled.

Well, from your point, he certainly looked like one.

With a nudge, you encouraged him to lift up the scarf and see what's under. And good lord when he ceased all movement along with his breathing, you had to admit you were kind of worried. Did you fuck up? Or did you take his breath away?

You watched his hands reluctantly reach inside the box and pull out that old Edgar Allan Poe tomme you had to hunt on the market. It was awfully hard to get your hands on the vintage collector's version with practically all his poems inside, and manage to restore it so it wasn't falling apart, but it was all worth that look of wonder on his face just now.

You didn't fuck up. You definitely didn't fuck up.

– It's... hardcover. – was all he muttered and you almost burst out laughing. Christ, that man was an absolute dork. Your dork.

– And collector's edition, too! I thought you'd like to have this on your shelf. – you gloated a little, puffing your chest with pride but were immediately stopped in your tracks when his lips suddenly landed on yours, pushing with force as his fingers clutched the book in his hands. 

Oh yes, that scavenging hunt was definitely worth it.

You cupped his cheeks gently, thumbs trailing over those razor sharp cheekbones as you kissed back and at the same time it felt like eternity and like it was way too soon when he pulled back from you.

– Thank you. – you felt that mutter against your lips before he leaned back all the way, eyes dragging back to his gift. Why were you even doubting yourself? You knew he'd love it. Once you took the time to get to know him properly, it wasn't that hard to know what he enjoyed most and what least.

– I'm afraid I can't live up to that with what I got you. – ah, there he went with all his self-doubt as if you didn't cherish everything he ever gave you.

– We'll see. – you said with a smirk, jumping under the tree to pull out your own gift. You weren't nearly as gentle while opening it - it wasn't often that Jonathan got you gifts and you were excited beyond imagination to see what he came up with.

          You really didn't want to admit it, but he was kind of right. You didn't know why you felt almost... disappointed when you opened the little box. But it was fine. It was practical and very well thought-out. Very useful during any emergencies.

It just... Well, he gave you the same thing almost every month and you thought... God, you were ungrateful, weren't you?

– For the latest batch? – you asked for confirmation, holding the syringe with that almost neon-y, bright blue liquid in your hands, not once tearing your eyes away from it. He cared for you and that's why he got you this - because no matter how much he enjoyed causing terror, he never wanted to harm you and wanted you to be safe.

So it was perfect. Yes, absolutely perfect.

– Mhmm. – he purred in confirmation and if you weren't so absorbed in your own thoughts, maybe you'd hear him shuffle carefully to sit behind you. And maybe he wouldn't have to press his lips to the back of your head for you to notice his hand that was holding something right in front of your face.

– There's also this, but that's just an addition. – he said nonchalantly and then your eyes landed on the necklace tangled around his fingers, pure silver crow skull dangling in front of your nose with the smallest, but most shining of gems ingrained in the middle of it's little forhead.

– Oh-... my god?! It's beautiful, Jonathan! – you part squealed, part laughed in utter joy as your hands came up to the pendant, gentle as ever as you cupped it in your palm and he let the chain slowly slither into your other hand.

And he must've picked up on that well-hidden relief, too, since he laughed in your ear, nuzzling your temple as he said:

– I know I'm a bastard, but not that much of a bastard.

With that stunt he pulled, you weren't entirely sure.

– Thank you. – you breathed, discarding that comment aside and leaning back into him, feeling his heartbeat pounding. Oh, so he was nervous too, huh? Served him well for tricking you like this.

– No, thank you. – he muttered, and it felt so... heavy coming from him that you had to turn your head around on his shoulder to look him in the eye. You immediately knew what he meant.

– You don't have to thank me for spending time with you. I love it, and I love you, Jon. – it was almost sad, seeing him averting his eyes right after you said that. You'd never get him used to hearing it, to knowing that there was actually someone out there that could love him like you did. It got tiring, sometimes - that constant doubt, the trust issues, and especially that paranoia of his, but it was a part of him and you loved it as much as the rest.

You just hoped some day he could accept it, too. And maybe, just maybe... say it back for once.

–  I know, I know, it's just... – he decided to ramble instead, and you let him – I've never really had a "nice" christmas. Of course, there was this one time Harley insisted on a "rogues get-together", and I even partly enjoyed that evening, not counting in Nigma's blabbering and Joker's... being himself, but... it's different with you. I don't mean that in the bad way. It's... I like it.

It's not like you cried a little and like he clung onto you for dear life while he was saying it all. It's not like you both stayed tangled like that on the floor long enough for your asses to hurt. No, of course not. 

          You were almost asleep, lulled by his slow, steady breathing and his heartbeat under your ear as his arm pressed you to his side while he read his newest volume, when he pressed his face into your hair, nuzzling a little.

– I love you too, you know that, right? 

Well... now you did.

Last thing you remembered was hearing his quiet chuckle when you squeezed him tight like a vice before falling asleep in his arms.

[i-need-air]

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader – Man on a mission.

Summary: Reader is an exchange student at UA, althought she could only stay one year. This is the journey and separation. What would Bakugou do once he realizes the girl he loves leaves? Could be angsty, but I promise a happy ending. 

Word count: ~3k.

When they first met neither of them cared about each other. The girl, too focused in eating the world and showing everyone her worth, barely gave him a glance the first day of school. Having transferred from the most prestigious American School for the year, working so, so hard to get there through a scholarship, [Y/N] was ready to kick ass, take names, get mediocre grades in Japanese History and get the attention of the top heroes of the world for her next internship. So, they just didn't care about each other.

But over time, as she got close to people in the 2-A class, even 2-B, her attitude and determination caught his attention. At first the girl pissed him off, being just an extra that will disappear in a year and will never see again, yet why was he staring so much? How come his eyes followed her figure as she walked away with Round-Face? How come he focused his attention on her too adorable giggle as dumbass Kaminari tried and failed miserably to flirt with her. And how come his friend pissed him off when he did that anyway? Oh, and let's not talk about how he never ever looked at her train, obviously not admiring her moves, her quirk, that look in her eyes. How he tried so fucking hard to not smile when she messed up a Japanese word and asked anyone around her how to pronounce it, giving no shits and only caring about getting better. He definitely didn't care about how she complimented his food that one time and Bakugou, the snake that he is, somehow manipulated Mina into convincing [Y/N] to cook with them, neither girls noticing him puppeteering the whole situation. So the [h/c] girl ended being part of the Bakusquad in record time, cooking and studying started to be a norm to do together. He didn't care that he got a whole zoo on crack in his stomach as she taught him how to cook food from her home-country or how good she smelled when she leaned closer to his frame, both sitting in his room, books spread around them as she questioned something about grammar. He definitely didn't lose his breath when she casually asked him if she could call him Katsuki, earning a grunt and a Do what you want. from the boy, ears flushed.

But Bakugou was hesitant. Of course he was, she was going to leave at the end of the year yet after the first internships started he realized that he's gonna miss that giggle. Her everything actually. And maybe they'll never see each other again. The boy had his own goals, he wanted to reach number one, he wanted to be the best. Was she a distraction? Because he never considered her one, daring to say he's more driven now... Was it a stretch to consider her made for him? Because that's what he thought all the time and these feelings were eating him alive. In a cool manner, he still had to maintain his reputation, excuse you.

[Y/N] [L/N] had a crush. A big crush on a rather abrasive young man. The moment she realized an overwhelming feeling engulfed her, taking away the very needed sleep as the following day she'd intern with the Hawks. Yet getting zero sleep that night, reality slapped her so hard she didn't even feel fatigue for 36 hours afterwards.

Bakugou Katsuki stole her heart and it was doomed for heartbreak. So separation and moving on was the plan.

Although it seemed like something went over her head. She fell in love with a stubborn motherfucker, yet neither of them knew at the time the lengths he'd go just to be together.

After some time of avoiding each other everything felt wrong. Studying wasn't the same, food didn't taste as good as before when she wasn't half moaning half praising his efforts, her cute way of pronouncing things actually turned into a good accent and even if a time came for the girl to ask for correction, [Y/N] decided to ask anyone else but him. Both were getting stronger separately, finding other training partners and things started to slowly go back to what it was at the beginning of the year, leaving a sour taste in Bakugou's mouth. How come she stole his heart? And how come now she was breaking it without noticing?

And here they were, together sitting outside their living quarters, just staring at the darkening skies, both lost in thought. Once strangers turned into friends and now back at the beginning. Yet the air was calm as it always was between them, like old friends meeting after years of not seeing each other even when they met every day.

"I'm gonna miss this place..." she muttered, gulping down the uneasiness rising in her throat. One more month and she'd leave. One more month and whatever they had would be erased forever. "I'm gonna miss you..." she whispered, deciding it was the time to take this burden off her chest once and for all. For herself, her well being, to explain her shitty attitude although his wasn't better. "I'm... I'm gonna miss your stupid face..." came out in another whisper, lips trembling as she avoided his eyes but when she heard a broken chuckle, strained and forced, her eyes snapped towards him.

His palm was covering his eyes, heart in his throat, not believing that everything lead to this moment.

"You spent too much time with me, dumbass." she blinked stupidity, precious orbs watching him carefully not even trying to hide the shine of tears appearing. "You sound like me now." she chucked too, bitter and quiet.

"I didn't spent enough time..."

And everything just turned back to what they had. As when they were alone in one of their rooms, sharing stories, watching movies, listening to music, each doing their own thing in harmony. So they talked, curfew approaching rapidly but there were many things unsaid. There was no clear confession but her little moment of truth opened a door that has been closed for both of them for a long time now. Actually... Not only the door, all the windows and doors were now wide opened, barricades and walls demolished down and everything flowed naturally. Who would've thought? Katsuki told himself while walking her to her door. He was soft, he has forgiven her in an instant for all the zig-zagging around him, feeling relieved since he felt guilt for doing the same. The stupid dancing around somehow ended when they reached her room, silence filling the air.

"You're a dumbass..." he said yet didn't know if it was thrown to [Y/N] or to himself. The rich laugh earned from her made him smirk. God, how much he missed it.

"You're the one to talk?" she pushed his shoulder gently, yet for the love of god, none knew what the fuck this conversation was really about. Before she could retreat the hand thought, he grabbed it, palms sweaty, fingers surprisingly gentle.

"[Y/N]." he responded, that zoo on crack in his stomach seemed to take life again. They didn't have much time anymore.

No verbal confession was made that night, both scared, terrified of voicing out anything that would instantly throw them back towards their concerns. Yet the sweet, slow kiss they shared got imprinted in their memories forever.

Her third year passed rather quickly, yet this time she was more glued to the phone. Many of her old friends noticed, inquiring who was the boy that she was talking to so much, all in teasing manner, none noticing how her lips would flatten and her expression fell for one second before answering back in a similarly teasing way too. Training, studying, going out with friends but never looking at another guy the way she looked at Bakugou Katsuki. Time flew while they both found a way to stay in touch, as limited as it was through the time zones and goals they individually had to reach.

Memories of their last month reconnecting and stepping up into a new world together, almost together but not official, sneaky kisses stolen from time to time, teasing each other but always with a hint of uncertainty, hugs that lasted a little bit too much yet none caring, cuddles and whispers when alone. But nothing else. Oh, how she regretted it. Not kissing him harder, not hugging him longer. Not telling him clearly that she loved him. Not crying when they parted ways because she sure as hell felt like doing so. They only promised to stay in touch when finally getting a time alone on that last fateful day. Being surrounded by her new friends crying around her, saying their goodbyes and promises of meeting somehow someday. That's when he snatched her for their final time alone. That's when she told him to not forget about them, yet again, never addressing their feelings. And he grunted at her, stoic, constipated looking, a face she'd normally make fun of if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

But they messaged at odd times, they'd create inside jokes and they'd talk on the phone, his voice always doing things to her.

"I've seen the fight, you were amazing!" she said while carefully picking his face in the voice call, re-learning his expressions, remembering caressing the same cheekbones that now were bruised after a big fight in his internship with Endeavor that could all be seen online.

"Course I was, woman." he said, small yet boyish grin on his face. [Y/N] wanted to laugh, tease and be normal around him in this limited time together but Jirou's words stopped her.

"It's insane. The Bakugou Katsuki has a fan-base now! Like... Girls confess to him every week, he gets love letters! Kirishima makes fun of him but we all know he's jealous–"

Keeping in contact with the people from UA was a blessing and a curse, the latter because of those words. He changed so much, people were starting to see him for what he really was and a selfish voice inside of her was screaming that only her could know this side of him. And at the same time feeling she'd never deserve him.

Without being able to bite her tongue, she inquired.

"So I heard you have fangirls now." bright smile way too shiny, her discomfort was so obvious even through the screen.

"Hah?" was his only answer, leaning closer to his Webcam with a frown.

"A little birdie told me." she shrugged, playing it cool, perfectly knowing she'd never be able to play anything cool to save her life.

"And who gives a shit 'bout that?" I do... almost was her reply. But no, she had to squeeze her own heart and milk the pain out of it.

"I mean, haven't you thought about it?"

"Think about what?" he rasped rather angrily.

"You know, having a girlfriend and so on...?"

"What...?" his disbelief clear on his face, suddenly morphing into anger, now clear and raw. "What the fuck are you even saying, [Y/N]!?" he shouted, breathing heavily. "Are you trying to tell me somethin'? Cuz if you are, you better say it clearly!"

"I–" I'm jealous, you deserve someone by your side, I love you. Please, don't look at someone else. Please, don't kiss someone else... Please, be mine.

"Yano what, I'm done for today, fuck off, will ya?" and with a growl, he finished the call.

The promise she made herself about not crying was slowly breaking, her reflection in the now dark computer screen showing her idiotic self about to burst in tears but she clearly didn't reach that point when an incoming call interrupted her self pity.

"Like fucking shit I'd let go of what we have, dumb woman." is all she needed to hear that day and she did.

"So it seems I need to work a year in America before I could have a contract with any other Hero Agency. Hawks made it clear that he wants me back as his side-kick with Tokoyami but..." It hurt, stupid laws and contracts and scholarships and feelings. Stupid life and stupid everything.

"Only a year, huh?" he said on the other side of the line.

Looking for a roommate was tough. Wanting to put an ease on her rent and to save money for a future she was starting to see more clearly, the woman had some interviews with some potential roomies but none were convincing. Maybe she was picky, but she got this apartment first, picked the best room and her landlady gave her full permission to pick anyone for her. Which was a blessing, really.

So the cat girl with 4 cats was an option. The guy that eyed her a little bit too much was out of the equation. There was another guy scheduled to come see the apartment that afternoon and, the best part, she was getting a package from Katsuki. He offered, actually. Said something about new house gift, brushing it off casually with his trademark snide remark about how he'd send her some cleaning shit. What an asshole, but hell, even if he did send her cleaning products, she'd cry out of happiness.

The guy talked to her through messages, asking basic questions and nothing more. Time to give another tour and talk about rent was coming yet she silently decided to give this guy a nice brief chat, throw him out and look for a girl roommate, even if Bakugou said it didn't matter and should interview both. "You know, to get it over with." little voice still screaming she'd mind if he had a woman as a roomie, but then again, they were nothing...

As 3 P.M. approached, she got a message.

From [Random dude #2 David]:

"I'll be late, hope you don't mind."

Of fucking course he was going to be late. The first impression? Annoying. What if she had things to do? Like wait for a package and then call Katsuki to open it with him there. Random David was pissing her off already.

Half an hour later the doorbell interrupted her thoughts as she stared blankly at her phone. The last messages she sent her... friend didn't actually reach him. And it's been 10 hours? Maybe he was called on a mission. But already? Endeavor surely didn't waste time, huh?

With a sigh she opened the door, ready to greet Random David when her eyes landed on a suitcase in front of her door. Her ears perked at the sound of another suitcase rolling towards her door, basically making her freak out because Random David was definitely not going to live with her now. And slowly, a guy came in her field of vision and the world stopped functioning.

Bakugou Katsuki, with a box over one of his shoulders and as she guessed, another suitcase in hand, reached her door, elevator ding snapping her out of her... uh... dream? Fantasy? Back shirt, dark jeans, messy hair and The Look™ he always had for her.

"Well, I'm here to look at the apartment." he grinned, about to burst into an ugly laughter at her dumb face. Everything until this point was worth it because that face? That face was all he needed. Yeah, the dumb mouth opening and closing, eyes big as plates, frozen in place.

"If you..." she muttered. "If you fucking tell me you're David, I will end you..."

"Ya better not call me that, woman." he said, taking a step towards her, putting the baggages down.

"Are you really here...?"

"What does it look like, huh? Now let me in, I need to sit down, I fucking hate long flights."

Rushing him in, hands trembling, words stuttering, [Y/N] [L/N] was in awe at the man in front of her. She knew, she definitely knew he was absolutely amused by her reaction but there was no helping it.

"You're here..." pulling him inside by his hand, it was so warm, just as always. "Holy shit, you're here."

"Aha, but don't get used to it, woman." he said, leaving the suitcases behind him, arms just wrapping loosely around her waist.

"Huh?" he touched her face, the scent of nitroglycerin invading her nostrils. Same scent she missed so much in the past year.

"Only for a year, then I'm taking you back home with me, understood?"

Although she didn't reply, she couldn't, as she only pulled the collar of his shirt towards her, ready to make up for all the time they threw away. So their lips met and their new life started.

Endeavor worked closely with various hero agencies in America and Bakugou Katsuki asked to be sent there for a year, or more so demanded, leaving the older man speechless. Yet with a single word from Shouto, everything was set running and Bakugou knew he'd have yo return the favor to Icy-Hot someday, but for now she was all that mattered. So when he helped her apartment hunt (even long distance), when he told her to look into this or that Hero agencies (knowing they'd work close to his), when he'd tell her to not mind male roommates (even if he minded, he minded very much), it was all towards the surprise for her.

Bakugou Katsuki was a man on a mission and he realized that in his third year at UA. He was going to be number one. He was going to be the best hero ever. And he was going to have [Y/N] by his side. Always.

Notes: I'm leaving this here since idk man, I had too much coffee and wrote this without blinking. Correlation with the notes? Don't question it. Anyway!! Pretty please, tell me what you thought of it and if anyone here knows how to add the Read More mark on phone, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd explained me how. I'm way too old for this, I swear, lmfao. Thank you for reading, seriously. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day! ♥