.... Okay, So I Might Have Made A Ahit Oc During My Downtime. Based On The Idea Of "yeah The Idea Of

.... Okay, so I might have made a ahit oc during my downtime. Based on the idea of "yeah the idea of hat kid being a little space orphan doing a job is sad.... But what if they were separated from their family and needed to get back home instead?"

And what if their worried mother came to the planet they were on, looking for them after they'd JUST LEFT like a month ago?

SOOOOOO HERE'S SUMMER!

I may have gotten carried away with myself on this idea-

Idiot loser can’t handle a lemon beats him up

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

hello! can i request an angsty fic with aizawa and f! reader where they break up? thank you!

i hope you enjoy this! i did it from his perspective, hope thats okay! also i know he probably wouldn’t actually be like this in a relationship, but for the fic, this is the only way i could see him being at fault :3

always appreciate reblogs and comments! if you’d lie to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

In the worst of the aftermath, Aizawa was not angry. He was never angry, not truly. Not even when he’d snap at his friends for bringing up her name, or when he’d feel rage churning in his stomach at the thought of her being with another. He was never angry. 

He was sad. So devastatingly, core achingly sad, that it kept him bed ridden for days at a time. Work, come home, eat and sleep. It wouldn't end. 

He’d always considered his quant home a safe haven, but lately it’d been feeling like a prison. It felt like a haunting museum, little bits of her as far as the eye could see. The memories were so vivid, he could still almost see the figure of her standing in his doorway. He could see her leaning on the window sill peering outside. He could see her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in a cup upon his sink. He could see her under the covers with him, hushed laughter and soft snoring into the early morning.

Even now, he see’s her beside him in bed. He see’s the indent of where she should be, now terribly empty. It makes him feel cold, alone. 

But, being alone had never been a huge issue to him before all this. In fact, he knows it was the downfall of him. 

She’d just wanted him to go out with her now and then. She just wanted to take photos with him, hold his hand out in public without feeling like she’d been forcing him. 

Aizawa buries his face in his hands, his back leaning against the cold wall, blanket curled around his waist like a weight. 

All she had wanted was just a little more life. Just a few more kisses, a few more hugs. A few more signs that he truly cared for her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She knew he loved her, why couldn’t that be enough? 

He refused public dates that weren’t anniversaries or events. He hated photos. He hated when she’d clasp fingers around his own, hated it because all it brought was attention. Paparazzi's scavenging and ruining every affectionate and tender moment they’d shared together in public. 

He never understood why it had to be public. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she would insist they get out and so something together. Why couldn't hanging out in the seclusion of his home be enough?

Always so stubborn, especially when it would have been the correct time to give in. His annoyance and unwillingness to be anything other than slow moving and low maintenance drove her away from him. He was just fine being on his own, so why couldn't she?

‘I feel like you’re embarrassed of me,’ She’d cried, having hit her breaking point. ‘I feel like you don’t even really care about me.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens. Of course I care about you. Why else would I want you here?

He should have said that. But, he didn’t. Just silently witnessed the destruction unsure of what to do next. Unsure of whether to argue, or remain dormant and quiet. Not quite apathetic, but he was never one for a shouting match. 

Unfortunately, he chose to remain still in the face of a crumbling heart. 

‘Even now, you won’t say a word. You don’t ever talk to me, Shota. You never ask how my day was, or if I want to go do anything. Why do I feel like I’m just here so you’re not lonely?’ She’d had fat tears welling in the pits of her eyes. She looked drained, broken. ‘I need more,’ Voice cracking, a terrible realization she’d stumbled upon. ‘I need more than that.’ 

It was a tense moment of silence. She shook her head and choked back a harsh sob.

‘Then that’s it.’ Lip trembling, feeling unwanted. ‘I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m leaving.’

At the lucid memory, Aizawa wish's he could go back and punch himself in the head. Say something, you idiot, he’d scream. Tell her to stay.

She’d passed him by, and the door slammed shut before he even turned to watch her go. 

It’s been weeks now, and he can’t seem to get his head right. It’d taken days before she came to collect her things, something he hoped would never come to be. A stupid part of him believed that she’d come around for some reason. It’d happened before- her storming out, him never changing, her missing him enough to just... Get over it. This time, however, was much different. 

Sinking in the memories, Aizawa feels his throat tighten at everything she’d said, and even worse, everything he didn’t say. His phone lights up beside him. 

yamada: are you still moping in there???? come out w us tonight! you need to get outta bed at some point

yamada: its been weeeeeeks!!!!!!! come on!!!!!!!

Aizawa knows he does. He knows his friend has been trying to get him to leave since it happened, but it’s hard.  He answered his friend, deciding that tonight he would in fact go out for a few hours just to clear his mind- anything is starting to become better than seeing a home empty of her. He sends the message, and his heart grows heavy.

He said yes to his friends when he was feeling sorry for himself, but never for her. He knew he deserved it, but it hurt not having her anymore. Especially when all he had to do was say yes sometimes. 

What stung the most was that he didn’t get to see her when she came to collect all her items, cram them into a box and leave for the last time. He’d hoped at that point, if it ever came to that, he could convince her to stay. But.. She hadn’t told him she was coming. Perhaps because she knew she was bound to give in. 

He came from from U.A., hoping that she’d be there, sleeping soundly or sitting terse on the couch ready for an argument ending conversation. 

But, she wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of her was. All her things vacated. Everything but the memory of her stripped away. 

Aizawa had stood stunned in the doorway. Then, it all came crashing down. She was serious this time. It was set in stone.

She’d really left him.

He didn’t think she’d actually leave him. Arguments were always so easy for Aizawa. He was a firm believer in ‘take me as a I am, or don’t take me at all.’ But, he’d never realized just how much changing she’d done for him. 

When he’d first met her at a group outing, she was full of life. She was bouncy and energetic. She had a sea of friends, a world of opportunities. But with him, with Aizawa’s stubbornness combined with her need and want to spend time with him, she went out less and less. Contacts in her phone dwindled from a vast ocean to merely puddles. 

Seldom she went out, and on the rare occasions she was able to get Aizawa to go, she’d dress in her best just for him to chastise her. ‘We’re not going anywhere that fancy,’ he’d remark, not noticing how her eyes fell. ‘Aren’t you a little over dressed?’

Guilt tore up his heart, now. She was always so beautiful dressed up like that, how could he ever say those things? Too late did he notice how she’d changed everything for him. Lost friends, missed outings, just so she could remain by his side. He did everything wrong and wasn't even willing to see it. He felt like a neglectful, stubborn, ass. 

Forcing himself up from bed, it takes all his strength to get up and wander into the bathroom. He’d need to start getting ready then if he was to go later. He was a slow moving creature, after all. Lazily, mentally drained and exhausted, he opens the mirror and pulls his toothbrush from the little shelves inside. The mirror swings shut and he’s met with his dreadful reflection. 

His eyes are even darker, redder, than they ever were with his quirk. Even he could tell he looked worse for wear. Drained, emotionally vacant yet so powerfully overrun with them at the same time. He looked dead. He brings the toothbrush to his teeth, but can’t bring himself to find the motivation to actually begin cleaning up. 

So tired. 

He just wants to sleep again. 

He wants to text her. But he doesn’t.

Tossing the toothbrush into the sink, resting his elbows on the edges and allowing his head to hang in sorrow, he wonders what she’s doing right now. It’s a warm Friday evening, the blue sky wide and clear. He’s sure she’s going out tonight, finally allowing herself the freedom to make up for all the time she’d missed with her friends. Friday’s were always Aizawa’s least favorite day. He just knew she’d want to go out, and he’d always combat it with a movie she’d been wanting to see, coming up with some random excuse as to why it wouldn’t be an ideal idea to go out. 

Then, he’d ignore how she sadly watched her friends social media stories about the night, and ignored their texts asking why she’s never around anymore.

God, what he would give for one more Friday night with her. He’d dress up, he’d take her somewhere so nice even he would be afraid he couldn’t afford the food. Her and all her friends. Whoever she wants, the whole world if need be. He’d do anything she wanted, strut her to a party on a red-carpet. Anything just for another Friday night. 

Aizawa’s eyes cast back up to his reflection. A lump forms in his throat, he watches his eyes glisten with tears. He wants to fall into the floor and forget about everything. 

Pushing himself away from the sink, he shake his head and gags on how tight his threat feels. Without even a moments hesitation, he finds himself right back in his room, pulls the covers aside, and drowns in them all over again. It’s dark, it’s cold. His own rooms uninviting without her. 

Yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave it.

His phone sits on his pillow. Aizawa opens his friends message. 

‘im going to stay in tonight. thank you for inviting me. im tired’

Aizawa doesn’t even want to see the messages his friend instantly starts blowing his phone up with. Instead, seconds after the text sends, he holds the power button until the entire screen goes black. He rolls over to face the wall, and he feels like he’s made of led. He swallows hard and gives into sleep all over again. His arm slings around a pillow, and he clutches it to his chest. 

A forever inanimate reminder of where she once laid. 

drew my husband,,,(aizawa) 🙂‍↕️

this originally started as a muscle study/warm up but i was like no lemme make this aizawa ! the obsession continues….