A/N: This Concept Is UNBELIEVEABLY Cute, How Did You Think Of It @strawbirb? Please Send Some Of That

A/N: This concept is UNBELIEVEABLY cute, how did you think of it @strawbirb? Please send some of that inspiration my way 💕

Tags/warnings: ficlet, reader has a head injury & partial amnesia, mild fluffy angst, extremely brief implication of reader giving Shouta a bj (blink and you’ll miss it)

Shouta’s getting used to the post-its.

Not that he’ll need to be used to them for long—according to your doctor, you’re only going to be ‘fuzzy’ (your words, not his) for another month or so. The day when you’re out of the woods can’t come soon enough. No matter how many times you reassure him that you’re going to be fine, he keeps catching you in little moments where you can’t remember things—and they’re always simple things, things like brushing your teeth or closing the door behind you, things you should be able to remember without even thinking.

Whenever he sees that frustrated look in your eyes as you try to recall what you’ve lost track of, he feels frozen, paralyzed with the fear that any day you could wake up and not remember anything. That you could not remember him.

He wishes it was that easy for him to forget how you looked in the hospital bed with bandages wrapped around your face and tubes sticking out of your arms. Shouta’s pretty sure that image is going to haunt him until the day he dies—

Stop. When he admitted it to you, you got upset and told him you didn’t want him to think of you that way. And he wants to respect your wishes, because right now (and always, to be honest), there is literally nothing he wouldn’t do to make you happy. Including putting up with having post-its tacked onto every flat surface in his house.

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In Sickness and In Sickness [Eraser Head | Aizawa Shouta]

Content: Fluff, Sick Fic, Sick Character, Established Relationship

Pronouns: None

Header: @/oliries

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Of course, he would get sick. As if being exhausted fucking constantly wasn’t enough. He just had to overwork to this point. Your stupid fucking wet cat of a husband, doing stupid wet cat of a husband things like being outside while it’s fucking raining and thinking he’ll wake up fine the next day, and on top of that—wait, what were you doing again?

You heard a string of coughs from the bedroom.

Oh, yeah. You were making Lemon Tonic.

For the both of you because he got you both sick.

You coughed into your elbow and looked into the fridge, grabbing a lemon and a bottle of liquor. You placed it on the counter and grabbed a pot from the cabinet. You sniffled as you filled it with water and sat it on the stove. You sliced up half of the lemon (almost cut yourself), put it in the pot and turned on the eye. You opened the bottle and poured a reasonable amount of liquor in there and put it back in the fridge. You left it to boil and went into the bedroom to check on your sick cat-like husband.

You poked your head in, “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” He mumbled. You made your way to the bed and flopped down on it.

“Same,” You grabbed a tissue and blew the shit out of your nose, “I wonder who’s fault that is?” You elbowed him in the side. He grunted and shoved your arm away. You started to laugh, but it agitated your lungs, and you ended up in a coughing fit.

After catching a gleam of that bright light, you checked the nightstand for any painkillers and sighed when finding they weren’t there. You begrudgingly got back up and went to get it from the bathroom. You grabbed another box of tissues as well, since Shouta was making a snot rag mountain of his own. You sat it on the nightstand and went back into the kitchen, turned off the eye, then grabbed two water bottles. Quickly dropping them off in the bedroom, you returned to the kitchen and grabbed two mugs, then filled them with the Cold Killing Lemon Tonic.

“Alright,” You sat in the bed and handed him his mug, “Try to drink this quickly.” You took a sip and burnt your tongue, but mama didn’t raise no bitch, so you kept going.

Shouta stared at you for a long time before finally drinking the Lemon Tonic like a shot.

“Okay show off,” You grab the painkillers and water, “you’ll be needing this.” You swallow yours without water like a damn boss, but still drank a bit after to make sure the pills went down.

Shouta again only stared as he did the same sans the after the fact water.

You glared at him a little.

“Now what?” He put the water bottle against his face, “didn’t you say this was sort of a miracle drink?”

“I didn’t say miracle drink,” you got underneath the covers and tucked him in as well, “I said Exorcising Drink.”

Shouta blinked, “What?”

“This drink will literally exorcise the sickness out of you.”

“…”

You gave him a Cheshire grin. “By sweating.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope! Now shut up and sweat!” You tucked the covers under your chin even snugglier, “Don’t worry. The sickness will come at you full force, so it’ll probably knock you out pretty quickly.”

He was quiet for a moment, “Remind me to never eat anything from your family again.”

“Yeah sure, no more peach cobbler for you then.”

“I take it back.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, shut up and sweat!”

“I told ya it would work,” You danced around Shouta in the kitchen. “But…”

It was the next day and the both of you were back to full health. Shouta didn’t seem all too pleased about it, though.

“So, why do you look like you’re pissed?”

He groaned, “I have to go back to work,” He shuttered, “back to night patrol.”

You laughed, “Who said we were going back to our jobs,” You nudged him, “we can play out this sickness a little longer.”

He grabbed you by the waist and gave you that maniacal smile that you loved, “I’d like that.” You grabbed him by the cheeks and gave him a quick peck.

“Great! You can take me on a date!”

He gave you a blank stare.

“…or chill at home and call that a date?”

He, like the gentlemen that he was, escorted you to the couch to put on something to watch while he grabbed the snacks.

“Next time we’re going out to eat though!”

Lemon tonic is the truth.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

He says, while wearing a League of Legends shirt

the first time it happened, he’s rendered speechless.

big man, known for his indisputable strength, and yet there he is – bundled in the softest blanket you own, tucked in the sofa while you warmed up some soup that frankly got his stomach grumbling.

he is still overwhelmed, slow blinks and quiet rasps of breath replacing his usually sharp focus. the clamour on the coffee table would have usually yanked him out of the fog, and yet there he remains, drowsy as he turns his attention to you.

he tips his head up just enough to watch you place a bowl of soup in front of him, your furrowed eyes shifting towards him in to check if he is still awake, and he doesn’t know what it was that you saw to have the worry fizzle into something tender. replaced with something so soft it almost made him ache.

a pretty smile graces your lips, and his lungs burn. he tries swallowing the lump lodged in his throat as he ducks his head down to avoid your eyes, unusual shyness thrumming underneath his skin, because this can’t be real.

you can’t be real.

“c’mere, baby,” you whisper, falling beside him with a tiny hum, shorter arms reaching towards his bulk to pull him towards you.

his eyes flutter close at the first brush of your fingers through his hair; the tips of your nails – pink acrylics, he catalogues – scratching his scalp just as gently.

he ignores the way his lips wobbled when he feels you press a kiss on the side of his temple. it was a quick brush, just another reminder of your softness, but it was enough for his senses to pick up on your scent. he doesn’t know what it is exactly but it is something so familiar. something that feels like home.

“y’r okay,” you tell him. he breathes in deeply, holding it, before exhaling with a tremor. your arms tighten around him. “y’r okay,” you repeat.

he remembers the tiny box hidden in his drawer, stuffed underneath his clothes, and promises, soon.

— simon (ghost) riley, toji fushiguro, aizawa shouta

aizawa sketches

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my first actual post, wowwie (and ofc it’s aizawa related)

all of them, drew with zero proper structure and straight out of my noggin. none of them are probably anatomically accurate, but they look good enough to me until i look back at it a few months later and die of cringe.