mamasbakeria

grand opening !

eni | 19 | she/her

53 posts

Messy Handwriting

messy handwriting

summary: it’s as you share a soft, fatigue-ridden look with your boyfriend, tag-teaming cheating on an assignment you put off for an entire month 5 hours before it’s due that you realize you have all the time in the world.

word count: 0.9 k

pairing(s): shinsou hitoshi x reader

genre | includes: drabble, fluff, sfw, established relationship, gender neutral reader, poc friendly reader, lots of swearing (im not sorry), barely proof-read, kind of rushed/bad writing

author’s note: i’m not going to say this was based off of a similar situation i found myself in 4 days ago, but that’s exactly what i’m saying (it’s not that bad, i started a week before school resumes, not the night before). the passage at the beginning is actually an excerpt from the book i had to read. it’s called the landscape of history by john lewis gaddis. its really dense, but a really interesting read! anyway, enjoy! let me know your thoughts <3

“The advantage of science, John Ziman has pointed out, is that it provides “a consensus of rational opinion over the widest possible field.” To be sure, we can’t expect the methods of science to work with equal precision, or to command comparably broad assent, when it comes to the study of human affairs-”

“What the fuck does this mean? Maybe if I read it again? Or rewrite it in easier words?”

A consensus (a general agreement) of rational (logical) opinion over the widest possible field (a lot of stuff???)

“And you have the audacity to tell me my handwriting is shit,” a large cup full of something akin to ambrosia cut off your view of your, admittedly messily written, study notes. How you managed to look grateful and spiteful at the same time, Hitoshi will never know. He simply chuckled while ducking underneath the straw wrapper you’d flicked at his head.

“Give me a break, at least I have an excuse. I’m on a time-crunch, you just never try,” your exasperation punctuated by the aggressive stabbing of your straw into the coffee he brought you. Caffeine and fatigue use your eyelids as a battleground as you struggle to stay awake. A beat passes to let you gather your motivation and then your attention shifts back to the assigned reading you put off all summer. The reading you had to have a 3 paragraph summary and analysis written for by tomorrowㅡscratch thatㅡby today.

You know, you know. Summer vacation is long and you could have easily allotted a couple of minutes a day to make progress, but there was just so much to do! Sero, Ashido, Jirou, and Iida’s birthdays were all during break and you finally got a switch so you could play Animal Crossing and everyone has a year and a half’s worth of progress on you so you had to spend several hours a day caring for your island and you also had to go on dates with Hitoshi and rearrange your dorm room 3 times and… and do everything that wasn’t your summer homework.

So here you are, the night before the start of the fall semester, trying to save yourself from Aizawa-sensei’s wrath. You can do it! Just finish this chapter, then reread it to understand what it means, then outline the summary, then write it all out, then erase half of it because it isn’t good enough, and oh fuck you cannot do this.

A muffled scream clawed its way up your throat, threatening to wake the dorms. If only you could stop time.

“I told you to start earlier,” Hitoshi mumbled into your leg from his seat on the floor, chastising you softly. It wasn’t that you were a bad student, both of you knew that, you were just susceptible to distraction. Everyone was. You were just used to being bailed out and let that get the better of you this time. Everyone in the class was assigned different parts of the book, so you couldn’t copy. Aizawa made sure of it. If you start the semester with a bad grade, there’s no chance at redemption. Maybe the consequences for this would be a good wake up call.

“And I didn’t listen.”

“You didn’t listen.”

The room went silent save for the ticking of your Totoro clock counting down the seconds to your inevitable doom. You groan again and flip back to the beginning of your notes to see if you can bullshit enough to at least pass the assignment. Maybe someone with a time-stopping quirk will wander onto campus and give me enough time to-

“Hey! Give me my notebook back. I don’t have time for your teasing- what are you doing?” your protests die down as you watch your boyfriend scribble in the margins of your notebook. Some things were underlined, others crossed out. Arrows connected points across the page until your notes transformed into a spider web of words.

“You’ve already identified the main idea, you just didn’t realize it. Here are the supporting ideas. You don’t have to go into a ton of detail, it’s just a summary. You start writing, I’ll read the rest,” Hitoshi slides the notebook back to you in exchange for the book.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want you dealing with the backlash of my poor decisions,” you try to argue weaky. Hitoshi loves you so subtly. So quietly that you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for it. His love was selfless in a way that exceeded just his blatant lack of self-preservation. As blunt as he was, as much as he played the part of aloof and uninterested, Hitoshi was never not acting in your best interest.

“I don’t have to, but I want to, so I am. Now stop talking and start writing,” you scoff at the way he tries to brush off how much he cares, but start to type nonetheless.

“I can’t believe you tried to say shit about my penmanship when yours is literal ass. I just spent the last 10 seconds trying to tell if that was the kanji for flower or death,” you chide as the clock strikes 3 am.

“I think that has less to do with legibility and more with your illiteracy,” Hitoshi peeks up from the book to roll his eyes at you. You feign an offended gasp that dissolves into a small smile.

It’s as you share a soft, fatigue-ridden look with your boyfriend, tag-teaming cheating on an assignment you put off for an entire month 5 hours before it’s due that you realize you have all the time in the world.

Messy Handwriting

More Posts from Mamasbakeria