Aizawa Oneshots and More

Beauty of Art

"Hiya! Could u do anxious fem reader w/ tics x Aizawa? She's a new art teacher" Requested by slut4m0n3yyy!

I have anxiety myself, and symptoms are different for everyone. In no way shape or form should you think this is an accurate representation of anxiety. I wrote it out how I personally experience anxiety and the tics that come with it. 

I hope I wrote this well, and hope I understood what you wanted! 

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The alarm clock blares in the early morning silence, a harsh reminder that today was the day. You groan and reach out to silence the noise, your hand trembling slightly as you fumble for the button to silence your phone. You sit up in bed, groggy as all hell, and slowly blink away the remnants of blissful sleep. Taking a deep breath to calm your already racing heart, you sigh, yet the excitement and anxiety of your new role keeps your pulse running high.

As you get ready in whatever manner that may be, you can't help but feel a twinge of nervousness with every step. The bathroom mirror reflects your expression, a mix of determination and apprehension. You try to focus on the positive, to remind yourself that you're qualified for this job, but the voice in your head continues to whisper, "what if you're not good enough?"

Your fingers tap a quick rhythm against the sink as you brush your teeth; a small tic, one that seems to surface quite often. You take another deep breath to steady your hands, but the tapping persists.

By the time you are ready to leave and start your new job, your anxiety has risen through the roof. Your foot bounces incessantly as you slip on your shoes, your fingers drumming lightly against the side of your bag as you grab your keys. It is hard not to think about the impression you'd make on your first day. What if the students didn't take you seriously? What if you stumble over your words? Does your makeup look okay? What if there's an accident on the street, and you get hospitalised? What if–

You shake your head, trying your best to clear the barrage of negative thoughts. "Just breathe," you remind yourself, recalling what your therapist said to you. You close your eyes for a moment, focusing on slowing your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale to ground yourself. It helped, a little.

You leave your apartment, the early morning air greeting you, cool and fresh. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. The sounds of the city are just waking up, the distant hum of traffic and occasional bird song helping to distract you from the knots twisting in your stomach.

Your fingers drum idly against the strap of your bag as you board the train, your leg bouncing. You clear your throat, causing a few other commuters to focus on you, expecting you to say something. But you don't. And yet you clear your throat again, and then a third time, all within the span of a few minutes.

You rush to take a sip of your water, guzzling down the cool beverage from your flask to help ease the drying sensation in your throat. You try to ignore the stares from others, focusing on your goal instead: getting to the school and starting your day.

But as you approach the school's entrance, the sight of bustling students and impressive architecture of U.A. High makes you tense up. Everyone is watching you, judging you. You can practically feel your confidence slipping. You shake your head once more, knowing deep down that no one is really paying any attention to you right now. Remember what your therapist said to you? Not everyone has the time to pay attention to you; you're just the background player in most people's lives.

You take yet another deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. It's just your first day, no one knows who you are yet. You're just another new face amongst many.