Lost My Home Again - I've been awake for 24 hours straight and this is a cry for help
- Last week I was notified that my landlord has decided to terminate my lease for my apartment; Most likely due to the property, changing ownership recently and nothing personal to do with me
- I still have my housing voucher, so I can use those funds to lease another apartment; but I have to move out of my current place by May 31st, 2026
- I'm under an insane amount of stress right now; losing my apartment was completely unexpected and very triggering/overwhelming; right now i'm working my butt off to avoid being homeless all over again 2 months from now
- This time around, I do have a much better awareness/understanding of the specific steps I need to take in order to secure a new rental property with my housing voucher; my current living situation is also much more stable, and so far I have a pretty solid support system
- However, I'm still struggling with several unknown variables that could drag the moving process out past the end of my lease; so being homeless again this year (even temporarily) is still a looming possibility
- One of those variables is getting the money to cover the application fees for all the properties I'll be applying to; my housing voucher only applies to rent and utility costs after I get a new lease, so I still have to pay the application fees myself
- If anyone is able and willing to spare me some money to help with these fees, I've put my Paypal and Venmo info below; please don't feel pressured to send me money if you aren't able to do so - I would greatly appreciate other forms of support like guiding advice, prayers, social/emotional connections, etc, and my dms are open on both Tumblr & Discord
I have a really bad cold at the moment. I need something loving, something sweet to survive...
Could you perhaps write something about how Dabi cares for his sick better half? I urgently need this.🤧🤒
His warmth - Dabi x Reader
A/N: hi, my love! I truly hope you start feeling better very soon
EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2
The first thing Dabi noticed was the silence.
Not the sort of quietness that curled around late afternoons when the sun slanted through the curtains of your tiny flat and dust particles drifted like slow-falling stars, but a heavy, stagnant quiet that clung to the air and dulled the edges of the room, as though the apartment itself had succumbed to illness and lay in wait for something to disturb its fevered stillness.
Dabi did not knock. He never did.
The lock yielded with a metallic click beneath his hand, and the door swung inward on a shallow sigh, allowing the night air to curl past him in a breath of winter chill before the warmth of his own body swallowed it whole.
He stepped inside, boots quiet against the floor, gaze already scanning the room with the sharp, habitual awareness of a man who trusted very little in this world except his own reflexes.
What he found was not dangerous. It was far worse.
The coffee table had been overrun by crumpled tissues, pill blister packs half-emptied and discarded without care, a mug stained at the rim with the ghost of long-cooled tea, and beside the couch lay the fallen remains of a blanket dragged hastily from the bedroom and abandoned halfway to its destination, as though strength had given out before the journey was complete.
And there…
Curled upon the sofa like a wilted flower deprived of sunlight - were you.
Another, thinner blanket had been wrapped around your frame in a manner that spoke of self-preservation rather than comfort, drawn high beneath your chin, while your favourite plush rabbit - ears bent, one seam slightly frayed from years of affection - was clutched against your chest with a desperation that would have been almost comical under any other circumstance. Your cheeks burned an unnatural shade of pink, your lashes clung together in damp clusters, and every breath that left your parted lips carried the faint, congested rasp of lungs struggling against their own rebellion.
For a moment, Dabi did not move.
Something in his chest tightened; it was not the familiar coil of irritation or disdain, but a quieter, more treacherous sensation that made his fingers twitch at his sides.
“…What the hell,” he muttered under his breath, though the words lacked their usual bite.
With a low click of his tongue at the sight of the battlefield your living room had become, Dabi moved swiftly and without commentary, sweeping tissues and empty blister packs from the floor and coffee table into a neat pile before vanishing into the kitchen to set the kettle on for your favourite tea; and when he pulled open the refrigerator only to be greeted by barren shelves and a tragic absence of anything resembling actual sustenance, he merely exhaled through his nose and made a quiet mental note to stop by the supermarket later, because clearly someone in this apartment was incapable of maintaining even the most basic reserves while running a fever.
Dabi stepped back into the living room, and his gaze immediately sought the small, bundled shape on the couch as his brow furrowed at the sight. “Y/N.”
Your head shifted sluggishly at the sound of his raspy voice, lashes fluttering as though each blink required deliberation, and when recognition dawned in your glassy irises, the relief that softened your features struck him with an intensity he had not anticipated.
“Touya…” The name slipped from your throat in a fragile murmur, thinned by fever and scraped raw by coughing, and he felt, with unwelcome clarity, how wrong it sounded reduced to that trembling thread.
He crossed the distance between you in three long strides, shrugging out of his coat and letting it fall wherever it pleased, attention already fixed on the way your fingers trembled against the plush fabric of the toy.
Dabi’s hand hovered near your forehead for the briefest second, as though uncertain whether the contact would shatter something delicate, before settling there with gentleness.
Scorching heat met his palm.
Dabi’s jaw tightened, stitches pulling faintly against scarred skin as he exhaled through his nose. “How long?” The question was hassle-free, and though the words were simple, the undercurrent of demand was softened by something that resembled concern far too closely to be dismissed.
“Since yesterday,” you managed, voice dissolving into a cough that bent you forward and wrung your body with sharp, painful tremors.
His arm slid around you before thought intervened, steadying your shaking shoulders with firm assurance while the other hand drifted to the center of your back, where he allowed a muted warmth to bloom - merely a steady heat designed to ease the constriction in your lungs and coax breath back into compliance.
The cough subsided gradually, leaving you slumped against him, exhausted by so small an effort.
“You should’ve called me,” Dabi said quietly, and though the reprimand lingered in the words, it lacked venom.
A faint smile ghosted across your lips despite the fever. “Didn’t want to bother you, Tou.”
He huffed softly, the sound half incredulous, half exasperated. “You think you are a bother?”
There was something almost dangerous in the way he asked it - incredulity that you would ever place yourself in a category so trivial.
Without waiting for an answer, the white-haired man adjusted his hold, sliding one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you from the couch with careful ease. The blanket trailed after you like a reluctant shadow as he settled back down, this time with you resting fully against his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin as though the space had been designed for that purpose alone.
The plush rabbit remained squeezed tightly in your hand.
Todoroki’s fingers combed slowly through your hair, untangling the strands that clung damply to your temples, and with each measured stroke he allowed a controlled warmth to seep from his skin into yours, calibrating it with the focus of a craftsman intent on precision rather than excess. “You’re burning up,” he admitted.
From the kitchen came the muted sound of a kettle he had set to boil without ceremony, because even in moments such as this he retained the instinct to act rather than dwell. When it clicked off, he rose reluctantly, arranging the blanket around you with surprising care before disappearing briefly to prepare something warm enough to soothe your exhausted soul.
He returned with tea and medicine he found in a cabinet, coaxing you upright with one arm braced securely behind you, his other hand guiding the cup to your lips while his turquoise irises remained fixed on the subtle shifts of your expression, attentive in a way no one had ever witnessed from him.
“Slowly,” he instructed, voice low and steady, as though speaking too loudly might fracture the fragile calm he was constructing around you.
You obeyed, swallowing obediently despite the way your eyes drooped with exhaustion, and when a drop of tea escaped the corner of your mouth, he wiped it away with the edge of his thumb before you could even attempt to apologize.
“There,” he praised.
When at last you sagged against him again, surrendering to the heaviness behind your eyes, he shifted so that you lay sprawled across him fully, one of his hands resting protectively at the small of your back while the other continued its unhurried journey through your hair.
Outside, the wind pressed faintly against the windows, but inside there was only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear and the measured rise and fall of your breathing as you gradually eased.
“You’re not allowed to scare me like that,” he claimed after a while, though you were already half-asleep and unlikely to register the confession hidden within the complaint.
A faint hum of acknowledgment escaped you regardless, and the corner of his mouth lifted in response.
Dabi adjusted the blanket once more, ensuring it covered you both, and lowered his face to press a lingering kiss against your fever-warmed temple.
“Rest, princess,” he murmured into your hair, voice stripped of its usual edge. “I’ve got you.”
He did not move; not when your breathing softened into the steady rhythm of true sleep, nor when your fingers slipped from the plushie and curled instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him as though anchoring yourself to something solid even within your dreams. The hours stretched long and hushed around you both, yet Dabi remained exactly where he was, because in that moment there existed nowhere else he intended to be.
I haven't been in the best mindset these days and losing motivation to the point I don't even talk to my partner and drawing and talking and moving feels a lot more like a chore now. It's most likely seasonal depression since it's rainy days here but it still sucks
May I have either four or time or twilight taking care of the reader who can barely move due to seasonal depression ? Thank you
I hope everyone who is going through the same problems a good day
Omg of course! I'm so sorry you're feeling that way, so I really hope this helps.
I'm Still Here
Pairing: Four x Reader
Warning(s): none!
Notes: I couldn't decide between those three so you're getting all of them lol. Inspired by "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet.
Masterlist
The curtains were drawn.
It was the first thing your bleary senses recognized, followed quickly by just how dark the room was, save for the on-and-off glimmers that shone beneath thick, light-repellent fabric. Something smelled warm, but you could hardly register it with your nose mashed so far in the contained fluff of your pillow, breathing in dust particles and something so familiar you dared call it home.
There was a knock on the door.
Your gaze flicked to the shadow-dark oak, but you didn't get up. Perhaps it was the sheet's fault—so tangled around the shape of your legs that movement was all but a dream—or maybe the dreadful heaviness brewing in your bones, far too cloying to justify any attempt to break free. Your tongue felt as though it was stuck in molasses, no freer than the fly caught within a spider's web.
Someone called your name. More knocking. Your eyelids fluttered shut; maybe if you pretended to be asleep—
Click.
The squeak of protesting hinges filled the room as the door swung open, a burst of bright light illuminating the room with a flourish that made you want to clamp your hand over your eyes and scream. Soft creaks followed even softer footsteps, and you could practically feel the moment the intruder reached out and—
"Hey, are you okay?"
Four. It was Four. Sweet, kind, knowing Four, who patched weapons and hearts alike.
Your answer was mindful and demure. "Ughhhhhhhhh."
Four's chuckle was light, yet you felt it as though he was pressed against you, though you supposed the forge-worn hand resting on the curve of your shoulder was good enough. "That bad?"
It was. It was that bad.
The bed dipped when a new weight settled atop the blanket-laden edge, and your body slid a few inches to lay against it. Even through the fabric, Four was warm.
"...Aren't you supposed be at market?" you asked slowly, a bit unwilling to prematurely shatter the thick silence.
The Hero's smile was audible... and palpable. When was the last time you'd eaten? Did you care? "It can wait."
Like hell it could. You lifted your head, wiped something distinctly crusty from the corner of your mouth, and forced forth the final boss of all deadpans. "You're burning daylight."
"I burn a lot of things," came Four's response. Hylia, he was such a boy, but if it didn't bring the tiniest crescent of a smile to your face...
The pillow let out a distinctly offended poof when you re-buried your face within its downy depths, and it would have felt nice, if not for the striking knowledge that you were being watched by someone who ran a business and paid his taxes on time. What a guy. What a life. "Goodnight."
"It's midday," goddesses, you just knew his eyes were violet. It was like a sixth sense.
"Good," you paused, and, just to be somewhat correct, muttered: "...day."
There was no response.
There was, however, a resounding shuff as a new weight plopped next to you.
"Four," you said through a self-inflicted mouthful of pillow.
"Hm?"
You were unimpressed, and somehow more energized than you'd been in... well, you weren't exactly sure how long it had been, but it was certainly depressing and potentially ignore-able for the sake of mental health. "You're in my bed."
"You say that like I didn't build the frame," he shot back, quick as a whip with violet eyes and a silver tongue, though there was no real bite lurking between any such syllables.
You yawned, and it was the perfect cover-up for mid-situation action plans. The blankets were feeling cozier by the second, but that was neither here nor there, not when you had something far more interesting less than a foot away. "...It's midday."
Four was unfazed. He usually was. "So it would seem."
You tried not to laugh. You really did.
You awoke feeling grossly refreshed.
Sleep had come as easily as your newfound company, even as you lay prone on your back, measuring your breaths so not to jostle the arm loosely slung across your stomach. A gentle pattering filled the room as droplets of rain battered the covered panes, and only the barest flash of lightning managed to slip past the thick curtains.
You spared the barest glance at the man currently smushed into your side. Even dressed like he could spring out of the window to do battle at the slightest indication, Four had no right to look half as comfy as he did, especially when you probably smelled like you'd never bathed and looked more than half the part.
Still, it was nice. Still, you tilted your head just enough to allow a single cheek to brush the top of his head.
Don't wake up, you thought, half on some insane whim from the depths of your regained consciousness. Don't leave me.
But it wasn't meant to be. A soft groan was your first indication, as was the subtle tightening of forge-worn fingers at your covered hip. Then, suspiciously, a slow yawn, and you found that staring at the ceiling with closed eyes was the answer to none of your problems.
Four's voice was rough with sleep and just as handsome. "You up?"
"No," you responded, more on frail instinct than anything else. With luck, he'd deem you too socially ungovernable to be forced from bed. With luck, you could forget who and what you were for another dry morning.
A pause, then a breath. He sounded tired... and way too awake. "You're talking."
"You're hallucinating," was the masterful comeback that most certainly earned a chuckle from the prone Hero at your side. He was warm, not unlike how a freshly-baked loaf radiated heat into eager palms, and you were almost uncomfortable byhow comfortable he made you. No one needed to know just how many flips your soul did when Four was around, but you would. You would.
It was with a swift cough that you decided not to care.
"You should get up," you whispered, half as a feeble self-encouragement that would never work. "It's late."
It wasn't. It was actually dawn. You have no idea how either of you managed to sleep so long.
Four's grunt was a cross between love and exasperation. He was silly like that. "Will you join me?"
That was the question, wasn't it? You closed your eyes and exhaled, ears twitching against the rising dip of the pillow that had kept you captive for... well, time had a funny way of passing, so you weren't going to dignify that with a proper response. "I don't know."
"We don't have to go anywhere," the hero soothed, softly patting your hip. Horrifyingly, it was working. "I'll even pull out my granddad's recipe book."
"I thought your granddad wasn't allowed in the kitchen," you joked with a chortle. This was nice; he was nice.
A soft snort was your answer, followed by the far-more explanatory: "If he didn't let that stop him, neither should we."
He had you there. Worse, you knew he had you there. You weren’t ignorant, but it was just… hard, when the sky’s color couldn’t be bothered to lift even a smidge from steely gray, and sunlight was a rare delicacy feasted upon by whatever insanity compelling Four to rise at the crack of dawn.
“Link,” you murmured; softly, in a feeble attempt to conceal the fearful prickle in your throat as a whisper of voice broke through the quiet. You didn’t often call him by his name, because that would be unfair to the four hues resting beneath the steely blue-gray of his eyes.
But, terrifyingly, beauty could never be without confession.
Warm breath fanned against the ruffled edge of your shirt. “Hm?”
Breathe in, then out. What did secrets matter if they were worthy of being shared? “It’s so dark, Link.”
A contemplative pause told you that the violet part of him was hard at work. “We don’t need the light to live,” Four decided on, and you couldn’t help but nod. You believed him and you didn’t. You loved him and you always would. “It’s nice, not necessary.”
Funny, coming from the man credited with restoring Hyrule’s light, but you would take it. Four never made it hard to handle what he threw at you.
“You’re sure?” You asked; staring at the ceiling, staring at what didn’t matter. Forgiveness came in the hiss of a fading ember, and understanding was never quite behind in your whirlwind of a life.
“Not really,” he laughed, like it was funny. It was. You were cackling horrifically and uncontrollably. There was a pause, and a breath, and a slightly more serious answer: “No one is.”
Touche.
“Yeah,” you mumbled. How was it that the ceiling was more welcoming than your own feelings? The peeling wallpaper more forthcoming than your thoughts? The blanket a truer hue than your shame would ever be.
“But we can learn,” he continued, and, for the first time, you had the courage to meet muddy green-violet eyes and smile.
Let it never be said that your boyfriend and unintentional roommate was a terrible cook, but even you were having doubts as you stared at the scalding bowl in his reddened hands. Was brown a good color? Was on-and-off chunk-age a good gauge of edibility?
Four nodded as a suspicious burble burst in the center of the soup, a reddish-brown chunk of something expelling itself from the thick mahogany-hued depths. “It’s a family recipe,” he was happy to inform you, grinning in a way that made your heart hammer in your chest. “You’ll be up and running in minutes!”
True to Four’s word, the soup did get you up and running.
To the bathroom.
“I’m so sorry,” he kept apologizing, hands tangled in your hair to keep any wayward strands from falling victim to the tumultuous mess currently coating the inside of the bucket. Your knees still stung from how quickly you’d dropped to them, and a terrible cramping sensation seized every muscle in your abdomen. You retched. More soupy liquid filled the bucket. It was insanely normal and hilariously gross, but at least a gentle hand was patting your back and Four’s shame was satisfying palpable past the sour-sweet taste infecting your mouth. “If I had known—“
“You’re fine,” you managed to force out between coughs, glancing at him through the corner of your eyes. “I’m alive. Probably.”
“By the Three—“
Your stomach clenched again and, oh— you really didn’t want to think about why it was green, so it was with a reeling mind and empty belly that you rolled away to sit on your butt, eagerly accepting Four’s tentative offering of wadded paper to clean your face. “I’m not mad,” you said, mostly because the Hero of the Four Sword looked disturbingly like a kicked puppy and partly because all of your energy had been soundly ejected with the soup. “I’m not even disappointed.”
There was a guilty whine. “You should be.”
“I can’t,” Hylia, you couldn’t even look at him when the puppy dog eyes came out. You were weak like that. “You tried so hard. I’d be impressed if I could keep it down.”
The guilt on Four’s face intensified to maximum levels as he stood, snagged a cup from the cabinet, and filled it with some clean water from the nearby basin. “Here,” he murmured, offering you the cup with the utmost gentleness. You supposed it was partly because he didn’t want you to spill it and be forced to strip in addition to emptying your stomach. How kind. How chivalrous. “This should help.”
Your hum was grateful as you gulped down a sip, swishing it around your mouth for a few seconds before utilizing the remaining shreds of decorum to spit it into the bucket. The next sip was nothing short of heaven, as were the next few until you found your cup empty and stomach full. “Thanks,” you told him, voice slightly scratchy from overuse. “You’re the best.”
“I’d agree if I wasn’t the one who made you throw up in the first place,” ah, there was the chuckle you had missed so much. “…Better?”
Your lips curved into a smile, and it was with a soft laugh that you tugged Four into a tight hug. “Always.”
I don't even know what this is but I hope you all enjoyed 😭
hi uh— i read you take emergency requests?... I'm having a bit of a really hard time with chronic pain (fibromyalgia) and i was wondering, if you have the time, could you please do something with Four comforting or helping a s/o who is struggling with fibro? or just— yeah just anything with it really... it's okay if not though! thank you still 💕
Apologies for taking so long to answer, I hope you are doing well 💚
"Link."
The soft call of his name roused him from his work. He lifted his head up with a brow arched, quietly waiting if he heard that right instead of imagining it. He straightens his spine, groaning slightly in discomfort due to the ache settling in from being bent over for a long period of time. He rolled his shoulders, gently cracking his spine as he set the tools carefully pack into place.
"Sunshine?"
"Coming!" He turns swiftly on his heel out the door to the bedroom up the stairs. The wood creaks under the weight and years of worn, 'definitely going to have to replace these stairs soon,' he thought to himself. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed loudly, signaling that noon had struck. His stomach growled making him grimace before smiling at the soft laugh coming from the shared room.
"Don't laugh at me," Four huffs jokingly as he entered, "you know how I get when I'm working."
They laid on the bed under the covers, grinning brightly up at him, "thankfully, you have me to remind you, hmm?"
"Of course," he pressed a short kiss against their forehead. He pulled back with a worried gaze,
"How are you feeling though?"
"Ah," they grimaced, "pain flaring up here and there, I'm kinda...stuck here for now."
"Don't worry, I can get gramps to make lunch for us!"
"But-"
"Hush," he press a finger against their lips, silencing their distress. They flush under his gentle yet firm gaze, squirming slightly as he took quiet pride of making them feel this way.
"Gramps doesn't mind...as long as I'm not the one that's cooking that is."
"Can make weapons, farm tools and all yet can't cook a single meal," you snickered.
"Hush, you."
Hi ducky can I please have an emergency request?
can u write a story for a y/n who keeps her emotions in bc every time she tries to tell someone someone else complains about something.
and I think u started watching black clover so can u write it with luck and magna ? either together or separate is okey.
thank u 💔
Yes you sure can.
Bumping this one up bc I’m really feeling this hardcore rn
I may make this kinda self-indulgent with the issues y/n is facing???
My dms are open if you wanna vent! I’m here for you, anon. 💜💜💜💜
CW BELOW THE CUT: none.
Luck Voltia and Magna Swing
Things weren’t going too well for you, there’s no way to hide that fact.
From whatever it was, your day was poisoned by unhappiness, and you didn’t know what to do to aid it.
Of course, you refused to let any of the other bulls in on how you were feeling. It was especially difficult to keep Asta from pestering you; the kid is very attentive.
“Show. Never tell.” Is what you would tell yourself, forcing the feelings back into a tiny box.
You tried so hard to keep your face up as you walked through the base, but most days it was impossible to get anything besides a hopeless frown.
When asked how you were, you shrugged it off, merely explaining that you just have a “resting sad face”
Many believed you, nodding with an “ohh” while walking away.
But Magna we’re not buying into any of your nonsense. The two would exchange worried glances at your excuses.
When the team slowly gathered together in the living room after dinner, you were not doing great whatsoever. Your mood was sour, and you were barely focused on anything.
“Hey, everything alright?” Asta asked as he sat next to you. “You didn’t eat at dinner, and usually you have a great appetite.”
You sighed with a broken smile, “To be honest I’m-“
“Oh my god, Asta, did you see what Yami had me doing today? I didn’t get a break once! I’m so tired of being his wheels all the time,” Finral whined as he plopped down next to the anti-magic user.
To your dismay, everyone gathered around their senior to listen to his tale of woe, leaving you behind and ignored again.
You stand up and retreat to your bedroom, leaving without a single word.
You didn’t have much time alone before there was a gentle knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? Can we come in?” It was Luck’s voice…?
You didn’t reply, instead burying your head into your pillow. You heard their bickering through the door.
“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way-“
“Magna no! They didn’t give us permission to come in-“
“And what if something happened to them?? Would you rather us stand out here and do nothing when-“
“You need to respect their wishes!”
“You can come in,” you say stoically, not moving from your previous position.
The door opens slowly, revealing the two bulls.
“Hey, careful doing that,” Magna quickly made his way over to your bed, turning your head toward them. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t leave room for air.”
“Whatever…” you murmur, eyes glazed over.
“(N/N),” Luck begins, “Are you okay?”
You sit upright to greet them “Yeah I’m-“
“No, like actually okay,” he interrupts, moving to sit next to you.
There’s a solemn silence…
“Hey, (N/N), tell us what’s going on, kid,” Magna hums as he brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, sitting on your other side.
They wait with baited breath for your reply, worry evident in their eyes.
“I’m not okay… and I don’t know what to do,” you finally confess in a sotto-voce tone.
Both put a supportive hand on your back or shoulder, listening carefully.
“Everything is falling apart… and I-I’m not sure what to do. I’m usually g-good at fixing things but…” you laugh a bit in pitifulness, “I can’t even fix myself.”
“You don’t have to fix yourself; that’s why we’re here,” the mowhawked mage mutters, squeezing your shoulder gingerly.
“But what if I can’t be fixed? What if I have to live like this every day?”
“Nothing lasts forever,” Luck’s sweet voice chimes. “Time won’t stop whenever you feel sad, it will keep moving and you’ll be forced to feel better.”
“It feels so hopeless… nobody cares…” you whisper
“That’s not-“ he attempts.
“It is true. The moment Fin complained, everyone turned to listen to him instead. I don’t feel heard or respected… I don’t-“ tears start to fill your eyes “I feel so alone.”
“Hey,” Magna’s low voice sounds, “You are far from alone…” he wipes a falling tear with his thumb. “You have people who love you and are willing to support you every step of the way.”
“Yeah!” A quiet cheer of approval left the lightning mage. “You know how much we love you, and we would do anything for you to feel like yourself again.”
The flame mage gets in front of you, locking your eyes. “Tell us anything that’s on your mind… what’s making you feel like less than you are? Anything is fair game, don’t be afraid.”
You look around at their concerned faces once more, and suddenly everything falls apart. Your shoulders heave up and down as your body is wracked with the sobs you’ve been keeping hidden.
As you wail loudly, the two instantly move in to hug you. Magna cradles your head against his chest while Luck hugs around your torso and lays his head on your lap.
The two wordlessly cling onto you as you spill your tale of woe. Many—having heard your pained cries— attempt to check in multiple times. Magna shooed them instantly, shooting a death glare to anyone who tried to enter.
When you finally finished, you slumped downward, resting in their loving embrace. “Thank you…”
“Anytime, kid… anytime.” Magna whispered as he pats your shoulder.
When no response was given from the Cherry berserker, the two of you look down to notice that he had fallen asleep on your lap.
And for the first time that day, you started laughing.
Hey, I saw the request about the haikyuu boys taking care of their s/o that’s having nausea and stomach aches due to social anxiety. I was wondering if I could request the same thing but with, Tendou, Ushijima, Sugawara, and Tanaka.
Hello, really sorry this is coming out so late but hope it still helps. My writers block is really bad rn so I had to miss out Sugawara.
Warnings: anxiety and feeling sick/overwhelmed
Tendou
* He realised you were feeling anxious when you gripped his hand tighter
* He knew he had to bring you somewhere quiet and away from the crowds quickly
* Once he found a place, he would rub your back gently, letting you grip his hand until your hold lessens
* He’ll whisper words of encouragement to get you to relax
* “It’s ok baby.” “Take your time to relax” “I’ll stay with you until you feel ready to move.”
* He knows how it feel to feel like everyone is watching you and feel overwhelmed with anxiety
* So he doesn’t rush you and let’s you calm down before kissing your forehead and taking you home
Ushijima
* He’s very aware of his surroundings
* He could feel a shift in your mood instantly, quickly taking a glance at your face and noticing the stressed and overwhelmed expression on your face
* You try to smile at him but he sees behind it
* He softly holds your hand and guides you through people, using his body as your shield, and finding a quiet cafe to sit in
* when you’ve sat down he goes to order your favourite drink, glancing back at you every few second to make sure you’re ok
* He comes back with your drink and sits quietly with you until you relax
* “Do you feel better? I can get you something to eat too.” He suggests but you shake your head
*”No? Ok then we’ll stay here until you’re ready to leave.” He nods his head and rubs your hand gently, letting you know he’s there for you.
Tanaka
*he’s very attentive to your needs
*always making sure he has his eye on you and even more in crowded areas
*when he feels you tense up and sees your face blank out, he knows he needs to get your attention on him
*”Baby, focus on me ok? I got you. Just focus on me and breathing.”
*He opens up his jacket to act as a shield as you try to level your breathing, telling you you’re doing well but not saying too much to overwhelm you
*he keeps his arms spread until you wrap your arms around his waist
* he can feel you’re a little cold from the anxiety and closes his arms so his jacket wraps around you
*”You did well baby. Let’s stay here a bit and keep you warm”
*he kisses your forehead and hugs you a little tighter
*and he definitely gives a dirty look at anyone who looks at you both weirdly
