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#hinata comfort
strawberrykake · 2 years
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compassion never fails
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notes: requested, dancer!reader doesn’t get into competition team, hq boyfriends comfort, angst, comfort, fluff,
warnings: none
oikawa, iwaizumi, bokuto, hinata || dancer!reader
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Oikawa ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳
as someone who never saw himself to nationals, he understands the frustration of working hard yet losing anyways
so when you start crying on his shoulder, he can't help but feel sympathetic, getting emotional himself
"this isn't the end [y/n].." he says, holding you close.
will do everything in his power to uplift your mood
"cmon, let's go get some frozen yogurt, yeah? My treat." he’d offer. “Celebrate all of your hard work. I know you did.”
you take his hand, making him happily chirp
he pulls out his earbuds connected to his phone, handing you one side to listen along to the music
as you both walked, hand in hand to the fro-yo shop nearby, he’d hum along to the music
sometimes lifting the hand holding yours to give a kiss on the back of your palm
and muttering i love you’s into your skin
little moments like these reminds you that at the end of the day, you’ll always return to him: your best achievement of all
you bet he feels the same way about you
just like how you find comfort in him, he finds comfort in you
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Iwaizumi ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳
he's astoUNDed bc you? are incredible at dancing, how is it even possible...
"it must suck...FOR THEM" bc he genuinely thinks they missed out on your talent
when he notices you getting all sad and mopey
he pulls you in a strong embrace
“let’s cuddle?” he requests, kissing the top of ur head
you nod, making the volleyball ace move you towards the couch
as you both hold onto each other’s embrace, relishing the calm silence your bf speaks up, making you open your eyes
“you know you’re incredible right?” He says, a dark pink shade forming on his cheeks at the sudden compliment towards you.
when you shrug, muttering an “I don’t know about that”, the shyness in his eyes are gone
now his solemn gaze is aimed towards you
“i’m serious,” he holds your chin up, making you turn back to him. “You’re absolutely amazing. I see the way you work hard, the way you’re always striving to be at your best. I wish I could even have half of the determination you possess.”
he kisses your (now pink) nose and heated cheeks. “I’m just lucky enough to date you.”
you remain silent, processing his words.
at this point, he could just call you his lil tomato based on how red you get when you’re around him
He finds it cute, pinching your cheeks.
“What? cat got your tongue?” he chuckles.
“Th-thanks, Haji,” you whisper.
“Always here for you. You know that.”
“I love you,” you say, before pulling him close to kiss him.
He chuckles, reciprocating your words under his breath as he presses his lips on yours
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bokuto ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳
you were always there during his emotional moments
don’t think for a sec that he wouldn’t be there for yours either
he’s being extra caring and soft during these times with you
when you told him about your loss in joining the competitive dance team, he first shouted a loud: “What?!” making birds around him flock
you shush him, smiling at the odd stares (of fukurodani vb teammates lol) going your way
“Oh, sorry.” He makes a quick apology, lowering his voice. “Well, are you alright?”
His eyes search yours, looking for his answer.
“Honestly…?” you give a sad smile, shaking your head ‘no’.
He inhales deeply.
“Ok.” Is all he says, taking your hand and turning to his team.
“We’re going, guys! Bye-bye!” Your bf waves to them, running away with you.
“Babe, where are we going?” you ask, trying to catch up to his long strides.
“The arcade,” he says, walking over to his bike.
Arcade??
“S-suddenly?” you ask as he sits, patting the seat behind him for you to hop on.
“Hmm..” he pauses his thoughts, loosening his uniforms’ tie. “Yes.” He turns around and waits for you to get on the bike.
oh, what the heck.
and with that, you both take a ride to the arcade, your arms wrapping his waist, snuggling him as he talks about his day with you.
Bokuto has a way of clearing your mind from the mess that goes on in your life, he’s like the light at the end of a dark tunnel
It shows during times like this
And when he lets you win the first few games just to see you make the smug look on your face that he misses
—he ends up trying to win,,,yet you kept beating him—
you laugh as you watch him try to get the premium item from the claw machine for the sixth time
“Babe, if you’re not having fun, we could go,” you pat his back, as he presses his face against the glass box.
He stops mid-game to face you. “Are you having fun?” His expression changes.
“Oh,” surprised by his abrupt change in demeanor, you look down, blushing. “Yeah.”
He smiles, chuckling. “Then, thats all that matters!”
“But that’s because I’m with you, Ko,” you say sheepishly. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”
You’ve never seen Bokuto blush so much.
“A-alright then! Let’s get out of here,” he takes your hand, face still hot , making you giggle.
You spend the rest of the day with him, just having the time of your lives glad to have each other.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hinata ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳
“you didn’t make it in?” he asks with a saddened look when you tell him about not getting into the competitive dance team.
bc all of your dreams are his too
it only crushes his heart more to see your disheartening gaze
“Sorry, this is so uncool,” you say, wiping tears away, embarrassed by your crying
“Despite everything, you still manage to be the most coolest person I know,” he wipes your tears away, moving close to you.
Once again Hinata goes on and on, babbling abt how he admires you
All without realizing the flustered mess you are because it’s just in his nature to unabashedly spit compliments,admiring another’s strengths, and praising them
If it were someone else, you would’ve thought they were just saying it to make you feel better
But knowing Hinata, he’s super expressive with his thoughts
You’d be able to know when he’s lying because he’s easy to read, like a book
That’s what makes you so flustered as he went on and on about your skillset
His eyes would wonder off into the distance, bringing up the cool moves you’d do, as if visualizing it in his head as he smiles, amazed
“Y-you’re just really, cool!” he stutters in his sentence when he realizes he’s been chatting for so long.
His eyes shift back to yours and he notices your crimson face, tears pricking
“Th-thank you, Shoyo,” you sniff. “I think you’re really awesome, too.”
He smiles, pulling you in a hug.
“Don’t you worry, [y/n]. I believe you can get through this,” the redhead murmurs into your shoulder as he places a kiss on it.
“You always do.”
His words make your heart skip a bit.
He pulls back to give you a huge grin, dimples appearing under his eyes.
You lean up to kiss them, making him giggle.
He’s the literal sunshine on your cloudy days.
240 notes · View notes
daebraeksan · 2 years
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Social anxiety, and too scared and embarrassed to dance in Bokuto’s dorm room, and subsequent comforting by all/many (a group effort)
Genre: comfort, college au, pre-relationship, friendship, alternate timeline (characters are aged differently to the show);;
characters: bokuto, hinata, atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa (primarily a bokuto comfort fic but everyone joins at the end)
Contents; social anxiety, low self esteem, abandonment issues/fear of abandonment, over analysis, stress, nervousness, emotionally sensitive reader, feeling like things aren’t going to work out, reader might seem dramatic to people … but anxiety creates life or death situations so lowkey (highkey) it is dramatic, limiting beliefs, asking for help, communicating, a supportive friend group <3,  cognitive distortion: whatever the phrase for “not believing your friends like you”, cognitive distortion: foreshortened future, cognitive distortion: filtering/negating the positive/focusing on the negative, cognitive distortion: magnification/catastrophizing, reader likes/is ok with hugs, college is a scam, at least in america it is,
Wc: 7618
a/n: everyone is the same age AU: pretend all the character dynamics are the same even though they are “the same age” since they are all first years in college. Also Atsumu and Osamu are only one month younger than Bokuto anyway. Bokuto is the youngest he could possibly be for his grade (i think) i don’t care, i wanted everyone in the same fic, anyway please enjoy, hope you like it
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You met Bokuto at orientation. You both sat in the front of the room at info sessions and class introductions and became front-row-buddies. You’ve never met someone with quite his specific brand of bulldozer optimism. You liked the part of yourself you discovered during orientation, who liked keeping up with Bokuto, egging him on, and who he hyped up in return. You’ve never been friends with someone like Bokuto before. The pressure was on you to be the driving force, the energy. Left to their own devices, you weren’t sure you’d ever see your old friends outside of school. 
There’s none of that pressure in your friendship with Bokuto. An invitation is on the tip of your tongue, and he beats you to it. You might have enjoyed high school a lot more if you had friends like Bokuto. You missed out on many experiences because of your circumstances, and you are still grieving those losses, but it's exciting to think about the future—maybe your experiences can be better, and different, than before. Maybe the past doesn't have to repeat. With Bokuto, you wonder if you will have the support you need to avoid feeling lonely and sad and excluded. You don’t have to feel like your social needs aren’t met.
It’s a really hopeful thought.
You’re really excited.
An unrelated fact is he was really cute.
But anyway. 
That was unrelated. 
The close of orientation left you aching, memories and feelings echoing in your hollow chest. You can’t wait to come back and stay here longer. You already felt attached to Bokuto. You never thought you could be friends with someone “like him.” You felt excited to be a cool, new, different person who could be friends with someone like Bokuto.
You felt excited for this year. 
#~#~#
You move into your dorm on campus a week before classes start. Bokuto is a constant in your new life: you meet up with him when you finish moving in, as orientation progresses, as classes start. 
You slowly meet some of his friends—so many of them. They came several weeks early to campus for volleyball, and an accelerated sneak peak of classes—the first few topics, some important projects. They were busy with their first taste of college life. It sounded like hell. 
It also sounded really fun. They got to know each other really deeply, and they all seemed like friends who knew each other for a lot longer than a few weeks. Some of them were friends from the same high school, but they had all met each other through high school volleyball in some form.  Those who were  acquaintances before were solidly friends now. They all bonded through their pre-semester experiences, the happy and painful and difficult ones alike. 
Learning about their experiences and seeing that bond from the outside zapped your nervous system through the bruises on your soul—all the certainties and fears fall like dominos: you don’t fit in, you’re lonely, you'll never get what you want, you’ll never make friends, you’ll never be happy. You’ll always face the thin mysterious layer which keeps you from interacting with and experiencing the world like other people seem to. Humans share 99.9% of their DNA with each other, and yet, there’s something wrong with you inherently, and you don’t know what it is. You don’t know how to fix it. That 0.1% is enough to keep you out of the spaces you want access to. 
All of this is going on in the background which makes socializing extremely draining. In your case, social anxiety makes you seem like an introvert. It’s true that socializing is draining—but that’s because the anxiety is kicking your butt. 
You’re not ready to give up yet, and you really do enjoy spending time with Bokuto. If it wasn’t for the social anxiety, you would be completely energized spending time with him. 
Bokuto continues inviting you to events with his friends and you continue to go. You try not to feel pain when they do things without you. But you do. You feel the pain. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were cool and chill and had something better to do, and thus wouldn't be impacted by Bokuto not inviting you to things. 
It didn't happen often. But your heart clenches when you see Bokuto and the boys out late at night on snapchat, with strobing rainbow lights and shaky camera work, or under bright sunshine, on the volleyball court, or in the mirror at the gym. 
Generally, when Bokuto is doing something with his friends, he invites you, too. But you always feel like an outsider.
You wonder when you will feel like “part of the group.” You wonder if it is possible. They aren’t cold or uninviting. But you can’t believe that they would want you there.
Sometimes, they invite you to do something  in particular, like some campus event, or an info session for an extracurricular activity. Sometimes they invite you to do nothing, like in one of their dorm rooms. Though, doing “nothing” always leads to something, and even then, Bokuto and his friends’ version of doing nothing is still a lot. 
That’s what happened today—they don’t seem to have a set plan, but something always materializes for them. Bokuto texts you, and you don't have anything better to do, and even if you had options, you’re not certain any of them could possibly eclipse hanging out with Bokuto.
Bokuto’s dorm wasn’t too far from you, and you text him when you’ve arrived, and wait in the lobby awkwardly until he comes to get you. You smile, terrified, at the RAs at the desk, and feel the weight of potential conversation in the air. But you don’t know what to say. Also they have their laptop out. Also they are talking to each other about something personal. 
You wait quietly. You look at the design on the carpet, on the walls. You look at the strange and unnecessary design choices in the wall, random parts jutting out, and weird artistic pieces dangling from the ceiling. It all seems really extra, like they are trying to compensate for something (like college being a scam.)
Bokuto is good at many things: volleyball, having an infectious laugh, and lightening the mood. He is also good at being dramatic and projecting his voice, so you hear him way before you see him. It’s actually funny from how far away his voice precedes him. When he finally emerges, you see he is surrounded by a whole gaggle of boys—actually, it’s only two, Atsumu and Hinata, but they draw the attention in the room to them. They’re like a black hole, the focal point. And yes, even though it was only two of them, they added to the noise, but Bokuto’s voice still stood out the most. 
(At least to you.)
“Hey!” he hoots, arms outstretched as he approaches you. 
You grin and his long legs cross the distance before you realize and get bundled up in his hug. He’s so strong and he smells nice. But you can’t say those things. Right? That would be crazy. Or creepy.
But actually, it’s Bokuto, so he might really like the compliment. 
You tell him that you love hugs from him and he’s so strong and he smells nice. 
Bokuto’s jaw drops. 
He hugs you again, tighter. 
“Thank you!” It’s almost a shout in your ear, but you’ll recover your hearing in due time. If it’s Bokuto, you don’t mind.
“Aw, _____,” Hinata coos. “Yall are so cute.”
“Wow, okay, get a room,” Atsumu snaps. “But also, what about me?”
Hinata ridicules him for being “the where’s my hug” guy while you look up in terror. This is why you didn’t want to say that. What were you thinking? You don’t know—why does everyone always misconstrue things—I mean, they’re making fun of you because you’re not attractive enough to be flirting with someone like Bokuto (if flirting was what it even was!!! Which it wasn’t!! You’re not arrogant!! You know he’s out of your league!!!!!) Right??? That’s what the crux of this is.
You’re not arrogant. This shouldn’t be happening to you. 
You don’t know where to look pleadingly. G-d has forsaken you. Why? 
“We could, but you bums are all literally in my room,” Bokuto snaps. 
“Excuses, excuses,” Atsumu says, while you stare at all of them in shock. You suppose this is roasting. It’s all jokes. They don’t mean it. 
Or do they?
But even if they mean it, it’s under the disguise of a joke, so it really never has to be brought up again. I mean how often are these people having genuine conversations about their feelings?
You don’t know.
For now, you are happy you gave Bokuto a compliment that made him happy. You wonder what he’s been up to all day. Yes, you’ve been texting and Snapchatting all day. But still. You wonder. There’s no way he’s told you everything, right? 
You want to ask him, but you’re cut off by Atsumu. 
“How are you?” Atsumu asks. 
“Doing good, what about you?” you say.
“Same, same,” he says. 
Some people ask how are you doing because they genuinely mean it, and some people ask it for small talk, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s not a bad thing to not be close with someone. And even people who are close might ask each other how they are doing. But you’re panicking. You’re boring and this sucks. No one is going to like you if you can’t be more interesting than this. 
But what are you supposed to say? There’s nothing. How can you be interesting?
Why can’t you just be a different person without any of these problems? 
Hinata asks you if there’s any extracurriculars you’re thinking of joining, and Atsumu asks if there’s any cool people on your floor, and if your RA is chill. You barely have time to acknowledge and be polite to the RA working at the front desk as you fork over your student ID with Hinata and Atsumu bombarding you with questions. 
“Who’s signing you in?” the RA asks. 
“ME!” Bokuto barrels through the two boys. Atsumu takes a step back, gripping the edge of the counter tight, pretending that he wasn’t about to be toppled over. Hinata goes flying, and almost bumps into two girls entering the dorm.
“Oh my god, sorry about him, are you okay?” Atsumu asks in his most flirtatious voice, and then he’s busy talking with them.
You’ve signed in and you, Hinata, and Bokuto head to the staircase.
“Atsumu—” you begin to ask. 
“Serves him right,” Bokuto said, surprisingly darkly. 
“He knows where we’re at,” Hinata said, waving his hand dismissively, before you can ask Bokuto what’s wrong. “He’ll be back when he’s ready.”
You want to put your hand on Bokuto’s back, or in his hand. You hope nothing serious is distressing him. You don’t want to see Bokuto sad. Or you at least want to be able to support him and comfort him while he is.  But you can’t do any of those things, that would be too much. Bokuto is a very touchy-feely person, and seems to be very comfortable with physical touch, you aren’t as comfortable. And especially with being anxious about who will read into things. (You’re reading into things.) (And Atsumu, APPARENTLY.) You don’t want anyone to know anything about you (that you really like Bokuto, and you want more physical touch with him, even though it makes you nervous. You want to be closer to him, and learn more about him, and hang out more. You want all these things. And none of that should be embarrassing, but you’re still embarrassed.)
Instead, you do nothing, and let Bokuto and Hinata talk at you some more, and you give answers to their questions as best you can (you’re still boring even when you try your best. That is not an encouraging thought.) You wished you were the kind of person that could reach deep inside you in the moment of need and evolve into a different better person, that was perfect for the moment, adapting to the situation. But you’re not the main character in an anime. And evolution doesn’t come from magic anyway, it comes from hard work and practice. 
You can’t fake years of regular, healthy, and safe socialization. 
So here you are. 
By the time you are down the hall, almost ready to enter the room, Atsumu is loping behind them to catch up. 
“There’s no loyalty in this house,” Atsumu declares with a sigh, stopping right behind them, and walking into the room with them. 
“Yeah, there really isn’t,” Bokuto glares. 
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Atsumu demands. 
“You were busy!” Bokuto snaps.
“Wow, wow, wow, what is going on here?” Osamu asks, as everyone enters the room.
Atsumu launches into an incredibly detailed but somehow in all the wrong ways, play by play of the last three minutes. 
“We’re teammates! We’re supposed to move as a unit. Why does no one get that?” he demands.
“Why do teammate rules apply to everyone except you?” Bokuto asks.
And they continue arguing. 
The beds are pressed against the corner, along the wall with the door and the wall perpendicular to that. And the desks were on the other side of the room, also on perpendicular walls.  There were volleyball, anime, and free university merch posters on the wall, and some photos from their high school volleyball days. Meal plans and physical therapy packets littered the desk, and textbooks piled on the floor. Shorts and hoodies hung across the backs of chairs, and over the side of hampers, though not quite making it in, a university athlete’s representation of the persistence of memory.
Suna pats the bed next to him and you crawl up to sit. Sakusa leans against the bed on the other side of you, almost perched on it.
“Hey,” you say, pleased at the invitation.
He shows you the TikTok he’s editing on his phone. Any series he does with Osamu and Atsumu will go viral, but he’s showing you clips of Bokuto he’s stringing together. You grin at the phone, and at him. He looks at you smugly. 
You’re about to say something—you don’t know what, maybe a compliment or an inquiry—when you hear Bokuto stop mid sentence. The room is silent for a few beats too long, and you can no longer say what you hadn't yet thought of to say to Suna. You can barely speak to one person without an audience, so an audience would be terrible. You look up at Bokuto, expectantly, wondering what he is going to say next. 
Everyone looks at him as his face contorts, in a range of expressions.
You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but you find your voice always freezes up in front of so many people. Especially in front of these people.  
“Anyway,” Osamu says, before you can build up the courage. Actually, he cuts off whatever Atsumu was going to say as well. The kind of euphoric and spiteful glee on Atsumu’s face could only mean harm—to whom, we do not know.
Maybe it was for the best. 
(As long as it’s not harming you. You can’t take much more of this.)
The conversation continues around you.
Fears bubble barely beneath the surface, under your shaky, anxious smile, through the nervous fluttering of your eyelashes. No matter how much you blink, your eyes feel dry. Your eyes feel tired from focusing on something out of your grasp, that you stretch to reach, but your muscles tense in protest. You’ll never get there, and you’re hurting yourself trying.
After seeing how he is with his other friends, you’re surprised Bokuto even remembers you, or even wants to continue to hang out with you. You're surprised you hit it off so well with him in the first place.
His friends are loud and silly and brave and confident. They move with ease. They know where they’re supposed to be. They want to be here, and they are wanted. 
Watching from the outside the interactions of a friend group that grew close from a shared experience hit a particular pain point screams from your heart. They flaunt their friendship and their inside jokes and their easy camaraderie, and you feel small, and extraneous, and left behind. 
They are not actively antagonizing you. They're not giving you snooty looks, or whispering loudly behind your back, before you even leave the room. They are not inviting you there just to hate you, just to have someone lamer than them to ridicule. They aren’t bullying you. They are nice people. Or at least they seem to be generally minding their own business, which is volleyball, as opposed to trying to hurt someone’s feelings on purpose. 
They are loud, and boisterous, and comfortable with interrupting each other, and they roast each other in a way that makes you a little scared. You aren’t that close with these people, and you would take the jokes way too seriously. And even with your closest friends, you would never joke about true insecurities. You would joke about previously established things that are comfortable to joke about, in a loving way, because you love and appreciate your friends, and don’t want to hurt them.
But it seems like roasting is an important part of a friendship, and self roasting is annoying. It takes the fun away from others. It makes you seem insecure (you are). It’s a cry for help (you don’t know what help you need, and you don’t want to ask. You don’t want anyone to know you need help.)
You are sensitive. And you are defensive because you are sensitive. You have to be defensive—you’ll get hurt. You don’t think everyone in the world is that defensive. Some of them don’t need to be. They don’t have to be so protective of themselves, because they have a baseline self esteem that allows them to weather certain things that you can’t.
You can’t be like them. You’re not like them. So, you’re trying to protect yourself.
But not having the right friends for you is painful, too. 
You want to do a good job—at what? You don’t know, just in general—and you want to have the fun life you think you deserve, that you think you were promised, as a youth. It’s not fair that everyone else gets to have it, and you don’t. 
You’re willing to try. People can’t say that you’re not willing.
You’re not saying you’ll do it perfectly, or even mediocrely, but you’ll try. That doesn’t stop the surmounting pressure from wishing you were perfect, or succeeding. But you want new experiences. You want to learn and grow. You came here for one reason: to be a new person. If you don’t get new experiences, you’ll stay the same person, and there will have been no point to any of this. No point to the pain you experienced in the past and no point to the pain you might experience now. 
You wanted to leave your old life behind, and the old you, behind. It wasn’t serving you. It wasn’t fun. You want it to be over.
You’re already here, in this new place, and you are a different person, in some ways. You haven’t been in a situation like this that you can remember. (Maybe you blocked them all out.) 
You never really thought of yourself as a shy person, but now that you need to talk to a bunch of strangers who you really want to like you, you’re terrified.
You weren't shy compared to people that were shyer than you—duh. You didn’t have a great sample size. Also you were intimidated by confident people in high school. 
You don’t view yourself objectively at all. You saw yourself as “better” than the friends you had in high school—better at talking to people, friendlier, more spontaneous, more outgoing, more free—because you could not bear the thought of you being exactly like how you perceived them. But in reality you really had nothing to look down on them for. 
You all had controlling parents. All of you. None of you were allowed to do fun stuff together. In fact, the reality is that they all ended up having experiences together and separately that made up the collage of “classic high school experiences you wished you had”—club trips, competitions, traveling, dating even—it was all in your head, that you were better than them. It was all your views. Your view was wrong. They were objectively living their best lives, and making the best of it, and having fun where and when they could, and you weren’t.
You had to tell yourself you were better than the friends you had in high school because you couldn't bear to be compared to them—you thought everyone viewed them as uninteresting losers, and even if that wasn’t true, they weren’t invited to parties, and they didn’t try to go to them. But you were no better than them. Your lives were basically the same on paper. Except they were happy with their circumstances. They had what they wanted. You didn’t. You were worse off than them. 
Now that all of your problems are bubbling at the surface, ready to explode, now that all your faults are waiting to expose themselves, ready to destroy your life, and any possible social connections you might be able to make here, you wait for something to say to emerge in your head. It doesn’t. Half of you is following the conversation, or trying to at least. You don’t understand their slang, and you don’t understand the inside jokes, and you weren’t there for the previous hangouts they remember, and you don’t get all the references they make.
Part of you tells yourself, “what am I even doing here?”
Part of you tells yourself, you need to make your own friend group like this, so that you can have inside jokes and memories to reference later. You don’t want to make anyone else feel like how you’re feeling now, but inadvertently, someone (you) might feel left out if they were hanging out with people who all had similar experiences (them). Is that natural? You don’t blame them. You just wish for things to be different.
Part of you tells yourself you will never be able to make your own friend group like this, you better make this one work. 
Part of you tells yourself you will never be able to make this work. You don’t have the social skills. You don’t have the practice. You didn’t get to try “this” out in middle or high school. This—socializing with people different than you. Socializing with people who had time, energy, and freedom to do things together. You don’t have confidence in your skills to navigate social situations. You didn’t get to mess up in low stakes situations (this is a high stakes situation).
This is hopeless. 
The other half of you is outside yourself, watching these people have fun and not understanding it. You’re a fly on the wall, you have literally nothing to say. There’s no good time to jump in, and you have no thoughts on any of the subjects they are talking about. You don’t want to say something wrong and stupid, and you don’t want them to explain something basic and bore them, and stall the conversation. You don’t want to be the lull. You don’t want to be the dead weight they’re carrying around out of pity or obligation.
If they stopped inviting you or invited you out of pity, both would hurt.
There didn’t seem to be a clear transition in the conversation, but somehow, Bokuto and Atsumu have arrived at arguing who is the better dancer.
“___________! What do you think?” Atsumu asks. 
Bokuto glares at him. 
You look at them without answering, and you were maybe right to do so, because Bokuto immediately answers, “they would pick me.”
“I didn’t hear them say that,” Atsumu says. 
“Maybe you guys should show them,” Suna says, phone already up and reading for filming. 
“Dance battle!” Hinata says excitedly, and turns on some music that sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re not actually sure if you’ve heard it before. 
You love watching them dance, but as they tag each other in, and continuously roast each other for their moves, you dread when the attention will be turned on you. 
They try to tag you in between, but you keep shaking your head. You’re not ready. (You’ll never be ready.) For now, stalling is the safest thing.
Even Suna is tagged in, which he declines at first, since he is filming. You offer to hold his phone, and he glares at you, not quite handing off the phone to you, but Osamu drags him off the bed, and you scramble to catch the phone. Bokuto takes his place on the bed next to you. Suna sends a lingering look between you and Bokuto before he juts and jitters in the middle of the room, and everyone yells and jeers, and then sits down on the other side of you, in between you and Sakusa.
You’ve never felt cool, popular, or accepted growing up. You’ve had a much different life than what you can assume these popular athletes had in high school, and the life they will probably continue to have in college. These college athletes are young and cool. You are young too, but you don’t know what they are doing. You do not know how to be cool. 
You can’t do this.
You feel so bad about yourself. Shame rises, thick coats of sludge crawling under your skin, like swamp monsters emerging from the gunk. Shame about what exactly?—you don’t know exactly what about you is wrong, so you attack everything.
It has to be something, and because you don’t know what it is, nothing is safe. 
Why can’t you dance? Why can’t you just know? Why can’t you be cool and likable?
“Come on!” Hinata grins. It’s Hinata, so he couldn't have any ill motives, definitely not towards you, but in this moment, it feels like he’s egging you on. “You can choose the music!”
You shake your head again. You can’t even talk. The panic in your chest rises up and presses against your throat. Your vocal chords are frozen, squeezed. You tell yourself to breathe, but you don’t listen to yourself. You can’t.
“Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” Atsumu asks. 
“Just because people don’t want to talk 24/7 doesn’t mean they are shy,” Suna pipes up. 
Atsumu looks dismayed. “I didn't mean anything bad by it!”
“You’re annoying, shut up.”
Atsumu splutters dramatically. “Why does no one respect me around here?”
Hinata opens his mouth to protest, and Atsumu snaps, “I know you do.”
“Well, damn, okay,” Hinata says. “I’m sorry I said anything. Or didn’t even get to say anything, because you are so rude.”
Atsumu arches an eyebrow at him. Hinata stares back. 
“Regardless, we’ve got to practice our routines for the concert,” Hinata says, seriously.
You almost want to ask if they are the ones performing, but you don't know what you don’t know, and you don’t want to seem stupid, so you don’t say anything. Plus, Bokuto mentioned something about all of them going to a concert at some point, but you remember no details about it. You’re not even sure if you’ve heard of the artists before. 
Eventually, they’re all done dancing, they seemed to have moved on finally, and you wish you could say you felt triumphant and safe. You’re safe, but you feel like you’ve lost. 
You’ve lost something you can never get back. 
Bokuto grabs your arm.
“Hey I think I left my phone in the common room. Will you come with me to get it?”
For some reason this request dislodges something inside you. You were not expecting it. “Uh. Yeah, sure.”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t game time,” Atsumu slides his accusation in like someone kicking down a door.
“Make sure you stop and smell the roses!” Hinata cries, his voice practically already tossing rose petals at you, with sparkles and bubbles to boot.
“Make sure Bokuto gives you one,” Osamu instructs. 
“Our hallway is Paris themed,” Hinata says. “Maybe you could stop by there?”
You blink, more confused than ever.
“You know,” Hinata says. 
“The hallway of love?”  Osamu asks. 
Bokuto hops off the bed and presents his hand to you, to help you down, which you take without thinking, and somehow, the silence that follows is the deadliest roast of all. 
What have you done?
You and Bokuto step out of the room, to Suna’s faint, and dull, “have fun.”
You are pretty sure you saw Bokuto put his phone on the charger in his room, but you don’t think of that until after both of you are out the door and walking down the hallway. 
You get the sense that you are being taken to the principal’s office, but that is ridiculous, and you make sure to not say that thought out loud. What are you even in trouble for anyway? Why does your brain do this.
You look up at him, searching for a clue as to what this is. 
“How are you doing?” Bokuto asks.
“I’m okay,” you lie.
“Okay.” Bokuto side eyes you. He looks like he’s going to accuse you or press you for more. But he takes a detour first. “I’m happy we’re all spending more time together.”
“Me, too,” you say. 
“I’m glad my friends haven’t scared you away yet.”
“Yeah,” you say. You feel like a failure. You just want to be normal. You just want to meet Bokuto’s friends and make a good first impression—and second, and third. 
But you can’t.
You never figured out how to. You never practiced, so now that the stakes are high—you want Bokuto to like you so much, you want his friends to like you so much. You want this all so much.
You want things to be different from your past so much.
But you can’t magically be a different person. 
“Are they bothering you?” Bokuto asks. He almost hiccups on his words when he asks, “Am I bothering you?” 
You shake your head.
“Okay. If any of us were making you uncomfortable, would you tell me?” Bokuto asks. “Or tell someone?” 
“You guys aren’t making me uncomfortable,” you whisper. “I’m just always uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
“Social anxiety.”
There. You said it. You’re fucked up, and you put a label on it, and now everyone knows. If they didn’t already know, for some silly reason. But they all have eyes, so you’re sure they all know. 
Bokuto looks at you with pity. It could be concern or something diferent. But how are you supposed to know? “I would have never guessed that.”
You glare at him accusingly.
“Seriously!” he says. 
“I am so awkward,” you state.
He shrugs. “I don’t really notice,” he says. “Not more than anyone else.”
“No one you know is awkward,” you say.
He scoffs. “Really? Literally all of them are awkward.”
“You can’t just apply awkward to everyone. It has a meaning,” you say, defensively. You’re weird. And not cool weird. Not acceptable weird. You’re just weird. You're surprised you tricked Bokuto into liking you.
That’s what’s sad, and scary—at the end of the day, Bokuto could wake up from this spell at any moment, and leave you.
That’s what this is all about. You just don’t want to be alone. You really do like Bokuto as an individual. But you also don’t want to be alone.
“You think they are cool?” Bokuto asks incredulously. “They are not cool.”
You restrain yourself from scoffing or rolling your eyes. “That’s what cool people would say,” you point out gently, and dully.
“You’re cool.”
You don’t know why he’s not getting it. “I’m not cool,” you correct him. “I like you.”
You look up at him, with eyes threatening to water. You don't want to say “I have no idea why.” That’s how you feel. You already feel so negative, and they are having so much fun and you aren’t. You’re different. You’re stupid and awful and a failure, and you wish you could just have fun in a normal way like everyone else. And not be so scared and upset all the time. 
“I should just go.”
Bokuto looks alarmed. “Okay.” Bokuto says, but he doesn’t look okay with that. “I wish I could make it better. But I know I can’t, at least not magically, or easily. And I know you’re probably going through things I don’t understand. Or just don’t know yet about you, since we’re still getting to know each other, and stuff. I want you to do what’s right for you. But I don’t want you to go. And I want to be there for you.” He blurts out the ending. His hand jerks in an aborted motion. 
You want to reach out and grab his hand. 
“I just. I’m not having fun.”
He sighs, and looks up at the ceiling, exasperated. “I’m sorry my friends are boring. They’re so stupid. What would be fun for us to do that you would also want to do, if we all hung out together?”
“No. Like.” You don’t know how to explain that his friends are fun, you want to have fun doing the things they are doing. You want to go to sports games, and you want to go dancing, and you want to go to parties. 
You’ve just never done those things before. You’ve had nowhere to practice. And now you have to do it for the first time in front of people you really want to impress.
You want them to like you. You want them to accept you.
It’s so much pressure.
“You are way cooler than them,” Bokuto adds, infuriatingly.
“That is not true,” you say. It is imperative that Bokuto understands reality. You don’t want him to say stupid stuff because he thinks it might make you feel better. You don’t want him to lie to you. “But thank you,” you say, because you don’t know Bokuto to be a liar. He might legitimately think you are cool.
Which is literally insane, but. 
Why else would he be friends with you?
You aren’t comfortable with that line of reasoning, so you need to jump ship immediately. You study Bokuto’s face, in case anything interesting or more dramatic is happening in the moment, than what is happening in your head. 
Bokuto looks at you like you’re crazy, but he doesn’t want to invalidate your feelings. But still. He does not agree with you at all. He doesn’t want to lose this argument, but he also doesn’t want to lose sight of the overarching point of this conversation. He needs to stay focused. “How are you defining cool?”
“Socially accepted. Everyone likes them.”
“Atsumu is very divisive,” Bokuto pipes up.
“That’s a feature, not a bug.”
Bokuto bursts out with a savage, sharp sound, and you look over to him in surprise. You don’t remember that exact kind of laugh coming from Bokuto before. You feel a deep, lingering sense of pride. You slurp it up. You want to slather the feeling all over you. You never want to forget this. You want this to mean something. You wish it could mean something (something permanent).
He looks at you in momentary embarrassment.
“I can’t with you,” he says with a grin.
You smile back at him, genuinely pleased. 
And the insecurities swoop in to make sure you aren’t enjoying anything, to make sure you’re not having a good time, because it’s not safe to do those things. It’s not safe to let your guard down. And also having fun isn’t for you. That’s not allowed. Those were the rules you grew up with. That was your understanding. Other people had fun, but they were allowed—they had different rules, so it was okay for them. People had different rules. People were raised differently. You don’t know why the world is that way. It seems unfair but you have no one you can complain about that to. No one will listen to you. Maybe no one on earth has control over that. 
The truth is you like hanging out with Bokuto. The truth is you want to monopolize his time. The truth is you wish you could hang out with him more. The truth is you wish he would pick you. The truth is you want to be his favorite.
You cannot express any of this to anybody. You don’t want to be creepy, you don’t want to be possessive.
You want a friend. You want to matter. You want to feel safe, and liked, and accepted. 
You want social connection.
You hate how attached you are to him. He has so many friends. He’s not going to have time for you.
But he still made time for you. He still invited you to hang out with his friends.
But that’s just because he is nice.
He is so nice.
You hate when people are popular and nice. It’s like please, pick a lane.
You’re honestly the mean one in this situation. Not that you would actively be mean to other people or put them down. But that rule doesn’t apply to how you treat yourself. 
“He’s a goofy dancer,” Bokuto continues.
You cannot ever tell Bokuto that you think all of his friends are attractive. Not as attractive as Bokuto. But almost as attractive.
You nod.
“What are you thinking about?” Bokuto asks.
You shrug. 
He elbows you gently. 
“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” you say.
“You aren’t,” he says. “If dancing is not your thing, it’s fine,” Bokuto says. “We can tell them to fuck off.”
You are startled. You don’t know what to say. 
“Tell who to fuck off?”
You stiffen. Oh, no, no, no. You turn around.
The gaggle of boys left the room, and are approaching you.
“We missed you,” Hinata says. 
“Aww,” Bokuto coos, but Hinata was obviously looking directly at you. 
You stare at him, bashful and pleased. You want to believe this. 
“Why is Bokuto hogging you all to himself?” Hinata asks.
“You came to visit me in the first place, right?” Atsumu asks.
Bokuto gapes at them. 
“Guys,” he starts. 
“We wanted to know what was wrong,” Hinata says. 
“Were we making you uncomfortable?” Osamu asks.
You were very uncomfortable. But is it their fault? You wish it was that simple. You  are the fuck up here, not them.
“You need to stop pressuring people,” Sakusa says. “You guys are stupid.”
“Maybe you need to get to know them more before you dance in front of them? Dancing is a scary thing,” Bokuto says.
“Art is a vulnerable thing to do in front of strangers. That’s perfectly understandable,” Sakusa says.
“Art needs to be shared! We’re all friends here!” Atsumu exclaims.
“What you’re doing isn’t art!” Sakusa snaps.
Atsumu gapes. “Hey! Don’t gatekeep art from me!”
“Let’s see some fucking art, then we’ll talk!”
“Too Cool To Dance Over Here, am I right?” Atsumu glares.
“As is _____,” Suna adds.
“Don’t drag me into this,” you hiss.
“You will get into this,” Atsumu slams his fist into this other palm. “One way or another, we will bring you down to our level.”
“Don’t let them,” Sakusa whispers.
“As if you aren’t already scraping the bottom of the barrel with us,” Suna says. 
“Don’t you love his sunny disposition?” Atsumu preens.
You nod.
“Don’t encourage him! If he’s bothering you, you need to speak up. If any of us are acting stupid, you need to tell us,” Atsumu demands.
You scoff and shake your head.
“What’s that about?” Osamu asks. 
“I’m new here,” you say. “I can’t possibly tell you guys how to act.”
“But we want to treat you how you want to be treated,” Bokuto says. 
You side eye him. And also try not to cry. It is such a simple statement, something people learn in elementary school. You never want to inconvenience people. If you are too much of a burden, too much trouble, why would anyone be friends with you? They could just hang out with someone easier to deal with. Over time, you were always concerned with making sure no one is ever mad at you, but you never thought that statement applied to you. Weird!
“I can’t say that,” you whimper. 
“You must,” Atsumu pats your back gently. “You’ll get better at it! You can practice with me!”
“He’s offering to annoy you, so you can tell him to shut up,” Osamu says. “I wouldn't take the deal, though.”
You and Atsumu gape at each other. 
“Yeah, maybe not that plan,” Hinata says. “But it’s okay if you’re shy!! They’re all so scary the first time you meet them! I was terrified of them when I first met them!” Hinata explains. 
“Wait, really?” you look at him, hope lurching in your chest.
“Yeah!” Hinata grins. “But once you get to know them, they’re awesome!”
“They’re just fine,” Sakusa corrects.
“They’re okay,” Suna adds.
“Guys, please,” Bokuto pleads.
“Mostly, they’re stupid,” Osamu says.
Bokuto glares at them.  
You’re grateful for Hinata. You are shocked that someone so brave and happy could ever be afraid of anyone.
You’re grateful for all of them. This is all so much and is not making any sense, but maybe you could accept the kindness, just this once? As uncomfortable as it is, this would be something new. A new experience to add to your collection. You’re on your way to being a different and better person. With their help. Accepting help is okay.
Too many new things at once. You want to abort the mission right away, but you take a deep breath. You’re safe here, you’re pretty sure. You trust them. If you stay in the discomfort for just a little longer, something really amazing could come from it. (It already has.)
“So, anyway, you’ll come back to the room with us?” Hinata asks. 
“I’m hungry,” Atsumu says.
“Oh, wait, me too,” Hinata looks at him in awe.
“Okay, so we’re all going to eat together?”  Osamu asks. 
“What do you want to eat?” Hinata asks.
“Run away now, you don’t want to be here for this,” Sakusa says.
“I’m going wherever ___ wants to eat,” Bokuto states.
“Okay, so I guess that means we’re all going there,” Osamu chuckles.
“Why can’t we be together all the time, forever?” Hinata sighs.
“You need to take a nap, codependent-ass,” Sakusa snaps.
“Can you let someone say something nice and cute and exaggerated without going all PhD, Dr. Sakusa?” Atsumu groans.
Sakusa of course does not dignify that with a response. 
You all decide on a place together to eat, and start to head over there. You almost forget to grab your student ID from the front desk. You are about to confidently walk out the door, even though everyone else who checked in already was waiting at the desk. They giggle at you, roast you, and you grin sheepishly at them. It’s not so bad, this time around. 
“Why don’t you hold my hand when you’re uncomfortable?” Bokuto exclaims, when you're all out the door together, on your way. “Take baby steps. We can all help you speak up.”
“He just wants you to hold his hand, don’t listen to him,” Atsumu informs you, like he’s made a deduction in his mind palace. 
“You can hold any of our hands,” Hinata offers.
“No!” Bokuto cries.
Hinata blinks at him innocently. “Why not?”
“Just text me, and we’ll leave, whenever they get annoying,” Sakusa says.
“Why do they have to text you? You can text me, too,” Osamu says. 
“You don’t have to text me, you can say it to my face, and to all of their faces, and we will still leave,” Atsumu says. 
“Literally none of you have their number,” Suna says.
They all turn to look at you, a wall circling around you.
You look around, grateful, scared, and literally waffling back and forth between being about to cry and not. 
“_____,” Atsumu begins, handing you their phone. 
“Just make a group chat with ____ and everyone can add their number from that,” Sakusa says.
“Wow, that’s so smart,” Hinata says. 
“I guess he really does have a PhD,” Atsumu says. 
“I am concerned with what kinds of things you guys are impressed with,” Sakusa says. 
Bokuto is in charge of making the group chat. You watch him stare at his phone. He catches your gaze over his phone and grins at you. You smile back. You’re lucky to have found such a sweet and caring friend group. Maybe the stakes aren’t as high as you thought. Or maybe they are, but you’re already here. You’ve already won. Clearly they already like you. If they really didn’t want you there, they wouldn't invite you. (Maybe Bokuto wants you there, and they all like Bokuto, but they don’t like you, and they let you stay as a favor to Bokuto? What’s the worst case scenario? But now, that doesn’t seem likely.) It’s a lot safer of an environment in which to practice all your deficiencies than you originally thought. 
Maybe things are okay. 
That’s also not something you're used to thinking, but it’s something you can start practicing now. 
And you are grateful for that. 
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hajihiko · 5 days
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Nice night 🌘
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liquidcatt · 3 days
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Even though he’s spent years being a professional volleyball player, his hands were oh so gentle. From the way he held you close while sleeping, to the way he softly cupped your face, wiping away your tears, to the way he held your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. He makes it better by kissing them to show you how much love he has for you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way
Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Kageyama, Atsumu, Suna, Kiyoomi, Oikawa, Tsukishima, Hoshiumi (+ your fav)
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barack-fa · 14 days
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@mars-ipan thank you so much for the ideas. It's your fault they look like this!!! ❤ you made them do this hope you uh hope you like it hahah. hah
they're so ugly. they're so perfect for each other..... . ......... I love them....
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natdu · 10 months
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"I'm home"
The domestic phrase was said under a breath, not intended for anybody specific to hear
If you arrived at 1 am it didn't make sense to expect your lover being awake, that's what you thought
This shift had been pretty rough on you: the new director of the ER acting like an spoiled brat, the countless patients that went through the door (counting the ones who didn't actually need an urgent attention), the lack of specialists and so on
Your feet were bloated by the prolonged standing, you felt your chapped lips and wondered when was the last time you drank water, and the subtle pulsations on your temple were just a forecast of the sweet migraine you'll experience in the morning
Now you really wanted to cry, but even for that, you were dehydrated
Suddenly your heart jumped out of your chest when you felt a warm breath just above your ear
"Back home already hmm?"
A pair of strong arms immediately circled your waist, accompanied by the caress of your thighs, nothing innapropiate behind it, he just knew how your muscles would get all tense after a hard day.
"Was it so hard for all of those smartasses to let go my girl back to me?"
The kiss on the back of your head, even if it wasn't acetaminophen, weakened your headache. You could only sigh and relax under the touch
"Mhmm seems like it is like that. I'm the one supposed to arrive late and to make up to you about it aren't I?"
His soft touches migrated to your shoulders, spinning you around so you could look at him, your red eyes meeting his droopy ones.
"My poor poor darling, so smart they need her all the hours of the day"
Each word and touch, lulling you to relaxation and comfort
Finally your body answered and you could say with honesty
"I'm home"
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rishiguro · 5 months
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HAIKYUU CHARACTERS WHEN YOU‘RE SICK
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a/n: hello flu season, you make me write purely self-indulgent shit because i turn into a needy child when i‘m sick
warnings: mentions of meds. one f-bomb.
jjk version
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SUNA RINTAROU: can’t help but tease you for it
“i told you to put on a jacket and dry your hair before you go out,” he muttered amused as he watched you huddle into the living room, wrapped into your thick blanket. you rolled your eyes at him, to which he immediately held up his hands. “don’t look at me like that, you know i’m right” you couldn’t help but pout at him, whispering curses annoyed. “you know damn well that that’s not how viruses work,” you grumbled. “then why are you sick now?” he retorted, smiling. “fuck you” you turned around to go back into the bedroom. “oh, come here you big baby” your boyfriend opened his arms and gestured you to come closer, offering to cuddle with you. “i hate you sometimes,” you muttered under your breath as you walked up to him, falling into his arms and laying your head on his chest. “i love you too”
USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI: decks you in with every remedy he can get his hands on
he looked at all the meds on the table after carefully reciting the benefits of each one word-by-word, remembering everything the pharmacist had told him. “are you sure you got everything you need? i can run out to the pharmacy again, it’s not a problem,” he offered after a short pause. you let out a quiet laugh, nodding confidently. “i’m sure i’ll be fine, ‘toshi. promise,” you stated, reaching out to grab his hand. “okay” admittedly, it was adorable just how overboard he went the second he heard you sneeze. you probably just caught the flu somewhere, nothing that couldn’t be cured with rest and maybe a few meds. when you texted your boyfriend, asking him to pick some up for you, you surely didn’t expect him to enter your home with the whole pharmacy in his bag. you grinned, your heart warming at his silly, but incredibly caring gesture. “what are you laughing at?” he asked confused. “nothing,” you assured him quickly, giving his cheek a peck before leaning into him and his warmth. “i’m just happy you’re here with me”
KITA SHINSUKE: keeps a respectable distance but doesn’t fail to make you feel cared for
following a soft knock, the door to your dim bedroom was opened with your boyfriend stepping into the room. “i made you some tea” he spoke softly as he put the mug down on the small table next to you. he proceeded to quickly feel your forehead, nodding when he realizes that your temperature has gone down. “and some soup is currently cooking on the stove, i’m gonna bring you a bowl later” he smiled softly at you, giving your forehead a peck. “i’ll be in the living room, yeah?” he turned to leave, making sure to not close the door behind him. he then turned around and took another look at you. “the door’s open, love, so just say the word and i’ll be here, no need to strain your voice” you smiled weakly at him. “thank you” he nodded. “i love you,” he whispered to you. “i love you too,” you replied. he turned to leave, but stopped when you called out to him again. he hummed, waiting for you to continue. “can i get a hug? just a quick one,” you mumbled, almost sounding shy, “please” he smiled, immediately making his way over to you. “you don’t have to ask, anything you want”
HINATA SHOYO: latches himself onto you and ends up getting sick too
you groaned, trying to push him off you, but finishing yourself too weak to actually do so. his head was buried in the crook of your neck with his arms wrapped tightly secured around you, not wanting to let you go. you sighed in defeat. “shoyo, i love you, but you’re gonna get sick of you keep doing this” “nuh-uh” he denied, shaking his head, his hair tickling your skin. “yes you will,” you insisted, your hands however finding their way on his back, softly running your nails over it. he kept denying it however and soon after you couldn’t find the energy to keep arguing with him — and you really didn’t want him to leave (not like you’d tell him and give him an actual reason to stay). and just about two weeks later, you’d be the one tending to him, not failing to tease him about his sickness. it didn’t matter to him though, he’d get sick a thousand times over if it meant he could stay close to you.
KUROO TETSUROU: loves to berate you but will drop everything to take care of you
he groaned when he saw you in his field of vision, raising his eyebrows at you with hands stemmed into his hips. “i told you to stay under the covers” he shook his head, pointing into the direction of your bedroom and motioning you towards it. “back under the blanket, come on” you whined. “it’s too hot, tetsurou, i’m sweating” you shivered as you spoke, your arms wrapping around your midsection. honestly, you just needed to see some things that weren’t the walls or the ceiling of your room. you’d take anything at this point. “that’s the point! you need to sweat it out!” he claimed, gesturing with his hands. “can i at least take a shower first? or just get changed? i feel disgusting, my clothes are literally drenched in sweat,” you spoke after sighing in defeat. there was no point in arguing with him, especially when you knew that he was right. “hop into the bathroom, i’ll get you some new pajamas”
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reblog & comment to support your fanfic writers !
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skysmadness · 7 months
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kagehina doodle dump !!
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lightprkdraws · 9 months
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take off the mask
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spielzeugkaiser · 1 year
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I'm procrastinating so hard (and still coughing my lungs out) that I not only procrastinate on the things I have to do but also on the things I planned to draw, sooooo... another trans!Hinata piece 👉👈 Poor guy feels a bit insecure first.
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ezariumi · 1 month
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(ㅅ´ ˘ `)⋆⁺₊✧ happy birthday shinmon benimaru !! 2024.02.20
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lunart-06 · 6 months
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Hinaegi time!!!!! They are my everything... the tragic doomed yaoi /ref /lh
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baylee-doodle · 1 year
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She's more embarrassed about the 'I love' part than the 'weird ass' part
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hajihiko · 7 months
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comfortyart · 9 months
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Peaceful evenings 💕🌃
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graveyard-society · 7 months
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shitty doodle of my favorite sdr2 trio
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