osamu once told atsumu that girls liked it when guys used their name in a sentence a lot. unfortunately for atsumu, he just sounds stupid.
"heyyyy, y/n. how ya doin, y/n?"
"hi, atsumu! m'fine. you?"
you ask as you see the blonde haired twin slide into the seat beside you.
"yeah. y/n, i'm fine too. i'm glad you asked y/n. what'cha doing, y/n?"
two seats behind you, you hear sunas voice with a lazy laugh, "why's he talking like that? he sounds dumb as fuck-." only to be interrupted with osamu's elbow making contact with his ribs. "shut up for once, rin."
"just homework, forgot to do it last night."
"hahha yeah, y/n." you didn't make a joke?
suna was right, he was talking weird. you've noticed the overusage of your name as soon as he started talking. you knew osamu's dumbass probably told him that girls probably fawn over stuff like that. you've seen the tiktoks.
but coming out of atsumu's mouth, it sounded cute. so you didn't stop him, you did however, tried to stop giggles coming out of your mouth at his poor attempt.
"sooo y/n. i was wondering.. if you're, y'know. potentially.. free this saturday. how does that sound y/n?"
"no way this dumbass just-" "shut up, rin! it's working. see, i'm always right." "it's not working you fatass."
"atsumu."
"yes, y/n?"
"please never listen to osamu ever again."
to that, you hear the gray haired twin gasp in shock and suna's laugh as he takes a picture of osamu's face as proof of his failure.
"i'll go on a date with you, but drop the name stuff. you sound stupid. cute, but stupid."
have these Hajime comfort HCs because i feel terrible <3
apologies for not getting requests n stuff out, but i hope you guys can enjoy this for now.
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FUCK depression i have Hajime
genre: comfort/fluff, misc.
warnings: gn!reader, suicidal thoughts, depression symptoms, self-harm, overall general suicide//depression warnings, mild swearing(if you couldn’t tell from the title).
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living in itself can be so tiring and exhausting...
with heavy weight on his shoulders and a past he could not erase, Hajime knew that all too well.
but you weren’t him; he wasn’t you. maybe you couldn’t push past that kind of stuff like he could, and that was okay.
Hajime isn’t the best at comforting, and honestly, he really wishes he was, though. he can’t always cheer you up with dumb jokes or trying to make you smile--it could help, but he knows it’s only temporary.
he hates it when you experience your lows like this, he genuinely wishes he could help more.
it hurts him when you verbalize what you think and feel, because maybe he could’ve done something to reassure you- but fuck that, he can do that now, can’t he?
he’d tell you, “hey, you’ve done your best, you know...you’ve been so strong for so long, and you being alive just proves that!”
he’ll take your hand and rub gentle circles on the top with his thumb,
“i’m not the best with my words, but-- i’m so proud of you. i’m so proud of you for staying with me, with others, with yourself. i’m so happy you’re alive and breathing and here. you’ve done--and are doing--so much, and i’m so, so proud of you for that.”
he’ll kiss your temple and grab a blanket, wrapping it around you. he’ll cuddle with you, grab you your favorite beverage, make you your favorite foods and/or sweets!
if you’d rather have him just by your side, he’s perfectly fine with that. in fact, he’d prefer that. he doesn’t know whether or not you’ll do anything risky or not, so he’d like to be near you anyway.
“what if i’m not doing my best? what if i’ve only been living because i’m too scared to die? and no one wants me or needs me anyway, so even if i’m gone, no one would care.”
he’d pout a bit, mixed with guilt and a conflict of emotions.
he’s angry and frustrated, saddened that you would even think that-- while you’re laying on the bed, he’ll gently whisper his words of assurance to you,
“i would care. i would care a lot if you were gone! and you’re always doing your best, every day! you’re constantly working--your brain, your body. you are constantly working, thinking, running. and even if you’ve only taken a small step to where you want to be, that’s still progress. you’re still getting there...”
he lays your head on his shoulder, cuddling next to you,
“and it’s okay to be subconsciously scared of death-- i mean, you don’t know for sure what happens or how badly it’ll hurt. it’s okay to be endlessly wandering and to not know where to go or what to do. you figure that out eventually, and it’s fine if you don’t know now..”
your figure gently cuddles into him as well, maybe you’re crying, maybe it just hurts, but his arms wrapped around you brings you comfort.
“i’ll be with you every step of the way, cheering you on.”
