#anemia

[grendel-menz]

I’m making this post on the behalf of Hamza and his sister, who is currently suffering the severe side effects (which can lead to death) of anemia due to the scarcity of medical and other resources in the strip.

Please consider donating to their family, or otherwise boosting their fundraiser. Anything is helpful! Thank you!

FUNDRAISER.

[ladyconstellati0n]

Batfamily Comm Lines pt.1

Damian: I am highly trained in several methods of combat and weaponry. I am the Son of the Bat, heir to the Demon's Head throne, and I do not follow-

Jason: I'm not taking orders from someone who is anemic.

Dick: Anemic? Whose anemic?

Jason: Damian is. He's been anemic since-

Damian: Todd, silence. Be quiet. Think of everything I have on you-

Jason, laughing: Ohhhh sensitive topic for you, Dami? He's fucking deficient in iron. Has been since like 7.

Tim: Why are you ashamed of being anemic? The fuck.

Damian: I am not anemic.

Jason: You take iron supplements.

Damian: And you take Flintstone vitamins, idiot. You are a child.

Dick, raising an eyebrow: Wait… we’re really having a nutritional roast mid-patrol?

Jason, grinning: Absolutely. Damian’s secret weakness is iron deficiency. Who knew the perfect little assassin had a soft spot?

Damian, flaring: I am not—

Tim: Ohhhh, so it’s okay if you pop a pill every morning but I get grief for a missing organ?

Damian, fuming, clenching his fists: I do not pop pills frivolously! Each iron tablet is calculated, precise, and necessary for optimal performance! You, however, lost a spleen due to your own stupidity-

Jason: Optimal performance? It's literally a vitamin.

Dick: Honestly, I’m just impressed that we’re having a rooftop argument about vitamins and organs mid-patrol. Gotham must be proud.

Jason, pointing at Damian: You hear that, tiny vampire? Dick’s siding with me.

Damian, growling: “ He is not. And I will have you know, Todd, that my blood iron levels are—”

Jason, cutting him off: “—sad. And small. And hilarious. Got it.”

Tim: We literally have to just deprive him of vitamins and he'll be out of our hair.

Jason: He skips one meal and he's a goner.

Dick giggling: You’re talking about Damian like he’s a Tamagotchi.

Damian, outraged: I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE.

Jason, nodding seriously: Yeah, and you’re standing there on borrowed iron.

Tim, deadpan: “I’m just saying, tactically, if he ever goes rogue, we cut off access to supplements. No swords. No traps. Just… nutritional neglect.”

Damian, drawing his blade: I will end all of you.

Bruce, finally cutting in over comms: If anyone deprives anyone else of vitamins, I swear I will ground all of you.

Damian: This family is a disgrace.

Dick grinning as he leaps off the roof: Yeah—but we’re a well-nourished disgrace.

[kiedetails]

Jjong with an anemic gf

Kim Hongjoong x reader, Choi Jongho x reader (separate)

Thank you @roronoas-wife for the request!

Pumped this one out fast because I did fall over from getting up three times today lol. Also my bias for gummy iron is very blatant in this.

Woosan version | Jjong version

Masterlist

Kim Hongjoong:

Choi Jongho:

Taglist:

@luvmunchies @melfresita-ruri2 @angelwings-fly @afararraaaa

[candiseal]

Iron deficiency and anemia are just propaganda— I faint because I’m a fairy and my undereyes are dark because I’m made of galaxies Ok?

[alexukei]

"Normalize drawing your favorite characters with your problems" trend.

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[wildnickk]

[aventurineswife]

Hiiii!

If it's not inconvenient, can I request Aventurine with an anemic reader? This is mostly self indulgent since my haemoglobin is basically non existent. Basically for the reader daily life goes something like :

Stand up too fast? Hello darkness my old friend 🎶

Appetite? What's that? Iron supplements constantly make reader feel nauseous anyway.

Always tired.

Definitely cold asf hands.

Chews ice cubes religiously.

It's just a silly little idea, and it just popped into my head, and I just wanted to send in a request :D

Thank you! Hope you're having a good day!

“You Look So Tired—Come Here”

Summary: Always cold, always tired, always a little too close to fainting—your days blur between dizziness and the hum of iron supplements that barely help. You never expected anyone to notice, let alone Aventurine, whose life is built on charm, calculation, and carefully concealed intentions. But somehow, he sees past your silences, offering warmth not through grand gestures, but quiet presence. And though neither of you say the words, something real lingers in the way he holds your cold hands like they matter.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff With Angst, Chronic Illness, Anemia, Sickfic, Reader Is Anemic, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn Intimacy, Found Family Vibes, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Romance, Soft Moments, Light Domesticity.

Warnings: Chronic Illness Themes, Fatigue, Fainting, Mild Medical Mentions, Emotional Vulnerability, Minor Angst, Implied Trauma, Caretaking Dynamics.

You weren’t sure what exactly Aventurine saw in you.

You weren’t a high-stakes investor. You weren’t a sharp-tongued politician or a sleek, mysterious rival. Most days, standing up too fast earned you a trip to the floor and a brief, existential duet with the void. Your appetite came and went like a coin toss, and your body constantly waged war against itself in the form of near-perpetual fatigue.

But somehow, in the shadowed space between risk and routine, Aventurine had found you—and stayed.

Sort of.

He wasn’t the type to settle down. You knew that from the start. He entered rooms like a loaded die—impossible to read and twice as dangerous. But with you, he dialed down the theatrics. Not off. Never off. But...tempered. Warmer, even. Like he liked playing a slower game when you were around.

You were curled up on his massive velvet sofa, wrapped in three blankets and nursing a mug of lukewarm tea you had no intention of drinking. Your fingers, as always, were freezing. You pressed them to your cheeks, frowning at the way they stung from the cold.

“I could just buy you thermal gloves lined with asteroid mink,” Aventurine drawled lazily from across the room, flipping a golden poker chip between his knuckles. “Or better yet, replace your blood entirely. I’ve heard chrome plasma keeps the chill out—if you don’t mind glowing in the dark.”

You snorted and didn’t bother looking at him. “I’ll pass on the chrome glowstick arc. You know iron supplements already make me feel like I’m dying.”

He quirked an eyebrow, lounging across the chaise like a smug peacock. “Mm, but you are dying. Slowly. Elegantly. I admire the commitment.”

You threw an ice cube at him from your glass. He caught it mid-air with the same hand still flipping the chip, barely looking. Show-off.

“Seriously though,” you muttered, hiding behind your mug, “I know I’m a bit of a mess.”

There was a moment’s pause. You weren’t expecting a response. Aventurine was often most comfortable when things stayed light, teasing, removed from emotional weight. But when he did speak, it came softer than expected.

“You’re not a mess. You're...a slow-burn investment.” He rose from his seat, walking toward you with a confident gait, coat trailing behind like a cape. “Volatile, yes. Unpredictable. But potential-rich.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. That totally doesn’t make me sound like a stock option.”

“But you are.” He knelt in front of you now, sliding the mug from your hands with a glint in his eyes. “One I’d never short-sell.”

You gave him a flat look, but your lips twitched. “Are you flirting or just using finance puns again?”

“Why not both?” he replied, gently taking your hands in his. You blinked. They weren’t warm—his hands were only slightly less cold than yours—but there was an intentness to the gesture that made your stomach flutter despite the iron-induced nausea.

He looked at your fingers, then back up to your face. “You’re pale.”

You shrugged. “That’s just how I look.”

“Liar,” he said lightly. Then, quieter: “You’re paler than yesterday.”

You looked away. You hated that he noticed things like that. Hated it and loved it.

“Did you eat anything today?”

“I tried,” you mumbled. “Then the supplement kicked in. Nausea, surprise party.”

Aventurine sighed through his nose. Not in annoyance—but in that rare, genuine exasperation he reserved for things he couldn’t control. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small foil packet.

“Emergency blood sugar gel,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Tastes like artificial strawberries and self-loathing. You’ll hate it.”

You stared at it. “Where do you even get this stuff?”

“I keep tabs on your medical data,” he said without shame. “You left your diagnostics open on your comm once. You know how I am with information.”

“Nosy?”

“Prepared.” He placed the packet in your hand. “Try to keep something down. Just enough to keep your brain from playing its nightly round of ‘Let’s Black Out Dramatically at 3 A.M.’”

You scoffed, but opened the packet.

He sat next to you now, tossing his hat onto the table with a flourish. “You know, for someone who acts like their body’s held together with paperclips and sarcasm, you’re maddeningly stubborn.”

You leaned against him. Just a little. Just enough to feel the weight of his overcoat and the steady beat of a heart you weren’t sure still believed in anything real.

“I don’t like being weak,” you admitted.

“And I don’t like folding bad hands,” he murmured. “But sometimes… you play the card you’re dealt.”

He didn’t tell you to be stronger. Didn’t try to fix you. Aventurine, for all his glittering bravado, understood what it meant to live with something invisible and unkind. You never had to explain the shame of needing help. He already knew. You could see it in the way his fingers occasionally brushed the choker at his neck, or how he never let anyone walk behind him.

So when he pulled your hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—cold breath meeting colder skin—you didn’t flinch.

“Next time you feel faint,” he said, “text me.”

“What if it’s 4 a.m.?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Because you’re too busy planning scams?”

“Because I’m worried you’ll die dramatically and steal my spotlight.”

You smiled, sleepy and soft, despite yourself.

He rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m not asking you to stop being sick,” he whispered. “Just don’t go through it alone.”

And for once, you didn’t feel like you had to argue.