bnha comfort stories

Bulimia (Aizawa x reader)

As a physics teacher at UA, my friendship with Aizawa grew over shared conversations about our students, the challenges of teaching, and our mutual love for coffee. However, as we spent more time together, Aizawa began to notice the peculiarities in your eating habits.

Despite your efforts to maintain a facade of normalcy, Aizawa's keen observation skills didn't miss the small, meticulously planned out portions you would eat during lunch breaks. He also couldn't help but notice the times when you would suddenly binge on large quantities of food during gatherings, only to excuse yourself right after to go to the bathroom.

One day, after another lunch where you barely touched your food, Aizawa pulled you aside with a concerned expression on his face. "I've noticed something," he began, his voice gentle yet firm. "Your eating habits seem... irregular. Is everything alright?"

Caught off guard by his directness, you hesitated for a moment before trying to brush off his concerns with a forced smile. "Oh, it's nothing, just not very hungry today," you replied, hoping to deflect his attention.

But Aizawa wasn't convinced. "I've seen this pattern before," he continued, his tone unwavering. "I'm not trying to pry, but I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

His words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of relief knowing that someone had noticed your struggles. With a sigh, you finally confessed to the battles you had been silently fighting with disordered eating, the shame and fear weighing heavily on your shoulders.

To your surprise, Aizawa didn't judge or condemn you. Instead, he offered a reassuring smile and a listening ear, promising to support you in finding the help you needed.

As you shared the painful origins of your struggles with bulimia, Aizawa listened with a mix of empathy and concern etched into his features. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, the echoes of past insecurities reverberating through the conversation.

Middle school-a time fraught with insecurities and comparisons-had left its mark on you in ways you never imagined. The pressure to fit in, to measure up to the standards set by your peers, had driven you to desperate measures in an attempt to attain a sense of worthiness.

You recounted the days of feeling inferior to the other girls, the constant comparisons that gnawed at your self-esteem like a relentless tide. The whispers of inadequacy grew louder with each passing day, fueling the toxic cycle of disordered eating that had become your coping mechanism.

Now, years later, at a "normal" weight, you found yourself trapped in a paradox of conflicting emotions. The sight of your reflection in the mirror no longer reflected the physical manifestation of your pain. You were no longer "chubby," no longer visibly unwell-and yet, the scars of your struggles ran deep beneath the surface.

The irony of it all-the longing to be seen and understood, even as the outward signs of your suffering faded-weighed heavily on your heart. You longed for validation, for someone to recognize the battles you continued to fight, even when they were no longer visible to the naked eye.

Aizawa listened in silence, his expression a mirror of the turmoil raging within you. And as the echoes of your story faded into the quiet of the room, he reached out a hand, a silent gesture of solidarity in the face of your shared pain.

As the days passed following your confession to Aizawa, a subtle shift occurred in your relationship. What started as a simple acknowledgment of shared struggles blossomed into something deeper, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in ways words could never convey.

You and Aizawa sat in a cozy corner of the cat cafe, surrounded by the gentle purring of feline companions as you diligently corrected papers together.

Aizawa glanced up from his stack of exams, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of amusement. "These cats seem to be quite fond of you," he remarked, nodding towards the furry creatures vying for your attention.

You chuckled softly, reaching out to scratch behind the ears of a particularly affectionate tabby. "I think they can sense a kindred spirit," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

As you resumed your work, the comfortable silence between you was interrupted only by the occasional rustle of papers and the contented purring of the cats. But despite the tranquility of the moment, there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air-a palpable energy that crackled with the unspoken words hovering on the tip of your tongues.

Finally, unable to contain the thought any longer, you cleared your throat, breaking the silence. "Aizawa, I just wanted to say...thank you," you began, your voice soft but sincere. "For everything. For being there for me, for supporting me through all of this."

Aizawa glanced up from his work, his expression softening with genuine warmth. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, his tone gentle but firm. "It's what friends do."

There was a brief pause as the weight of his words settled between you, the air heavy with unspoken emotion. And in that moment, as you shared a silent exchange of understanding and gratitude.

As you and Aizawa spent more time together, correcting exams and sharing coffee breaks, there was a newfound ease in your interactions-a comfort that transcended the boundaries of mere friendship. In the quiet moments of shared silence, you found solace in the presence of each other, a sense of belonging that felt like coming home after a long journey.

Outside of school hours, your outings took on a more intimate tone, each moment spent in Aizawa's company imbued with a sense of significance that defied explanation. Whether it was sharing a meal at a cozy restaurant or taking leisurely walks through the city streets, every shared experience felt like a treasure-a precious memory to be cherished and held close to your heart.

In the quiet intimacy of those moments, you found yourself opening up in ways you never thought possible, sharing not only your struggles but also your hopes, dreams, and fears. And in return, Aizawa offered love and understanding, his presence a comforting light guiding you in the darkness parts of life.