
Greetings, fellow creatures! I'm Robin (they/them), 20 y.o. Welcome to my blog! All requests are CLOSED. Side blog: @ihaveadesiretoshitpost
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I Don't Even Watch Mha, But I Sure As Hell Love These Two
I don't even watch mha, but I sure as hell love these two <3 This is amazing
Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]
Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...
Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.
This story includes a Polyamorous relationship
Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.
Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)
Y/N --- 4:06pm
Hey can my roomates come to dinner?
DAD --- 4:06
You mean the gays?
Y/M --- 4:08
Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.
DAD --- 4:10
Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.
MOM --- 5:12
Sure, they can come.
Mom --- 5:23
Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?
That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.
At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.
You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.
“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”
“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.
“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.
“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.
“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.
“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.
“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.
“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”
“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.
“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”
You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.
“Try again.” He instructed.
“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.
“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”
If only he’d been right.
Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.
The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.
Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.
Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.
You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.
“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.
You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.
Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.
Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.
“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”
Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.
“How long?” she breathed.
“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.
“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”
Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.
“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”
There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.
“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.
“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”
“Get out.” You father growled.
Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.
“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.
You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.
“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.
You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.
“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.
They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.
Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.
“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.
At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.
“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”
That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.
When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.
You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.
You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.
You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.
“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”
She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.
“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”
The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.
“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”
He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.
“Listen to this.” You sniffed.
He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.
“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.
“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.
You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.
You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.
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More Posts from Robin-the-enby
Hi! Can you write a headcanon for Bucky Barnes having a girlfriend with a chronic illness and anxiety, please? It would help me a lot. Thanks and have a beautiful day!
Yaaaay, I love writing headcanons, it comes the easiest for me to do honestly. I tried to keep it as vague, since there hadn't been mentioned a specific illness, but I hope you still like it!

I think it's safe to say this man knows exactly what he's doing.
I think he's the "caring but not coddling" type of person.
Since you are somewhat his rock, something that keeps him stable during these times, where many things are still very new to him.
So of course he'll gladly help you with anything you need.
At first, he'll ask you to tell him as much about your illness as possible, because I think he'd have somewhat of a hard time coming up with questions on his own.
If he feels like he's still uneducated or if you have a hard time talking about it, he'll try to search up stuff on the internet but then discard the idea, since anyone can say literally anything on there and get in touch with a specialist instead.
He's really the best at supporting you throughout anything that comes with your illness.
Are you in pain? He makes sure that you'd taken your meds if you take any. If a massage is what you need, he's got you as well. Can you imagine how nice a massage by his metal arm would feel??? Oh man...
If you need to go to the hospital for some time or undergo a surgery, he'll be there for you as much as he can. When you wake up, he's there with some nice chocolates and your favourite trinket from home to make the stay easier for you.
If there's something special you need, be it treatment, meds or just anything to make daily tasks easier, he's ready to pull some strings, be it with Sam or even the Wakandans. Sure, it's kind of sad that not all people can do that, but I think it's alright to be selfish when it comes to your wellbeing and I'm sure Bucky does as well.
If anyone's being a dickhead to you because of your illness, maybe at work or anywhere else, do tell him, he's ready to...talk it out with them. No, no, you don't need to fret hun, he's just gonna give them a lesson, nice and calm, about how it's so easy to not treat people like shit because of something that is out of their control.
Honestly, I think Bucky has some sort of anxiety as well. He's been brainwashed for a very long time and the only thing he knew how to do was kill.
So I think that he definitely gets nervous around new people, at least in the beginning. He really doesn't want them to react the same as Tony did (not that he was mad at him for it).
He's very afraid of hurting someone, even if it doesn't show that much. He doesn't want to hurt people, but neither did he back then and yet he still did. Sure, he should is cured now, but deep deep down, he's not 100% sure still.
So that makes meeting new people stressful for him, which makes it awkward, which makes him anxious.
Another thing in which Bucky's anxiety shows is that at first, he's reluctant to sleep with you. Not like that you horndog, I mean in the same bed.
He's still plagued with nightmares as more and more memories come back to him, always new people he's hurt, killed or done wrong.
And well, he doesn't want to accidentally hurt you. And if you're chronically ill? Well, that doesn't assure him at all, let me tell you that. He'd hate himself if he was somehow the reason your condition worsened.
But we're here to talk about your anxiety. I just wanted to show that Bucky can relate to a level, but got carried away a bit, oops (what can I say, I love this man).
Again, he'd ask you to tell him about it, what makes you anxious and what helps you calm down. How should he help you when you get a panic attack? And so on, and so on.
If you're in public and the busy streets cause to hyperventilate, he's the best man for quick escapes. He'd quickly pull you into an alleyway, put his jacket on the ground for you and help you calm down.
If you need space, he's gonna sit against the opposite wall, if you need him to distract you, he'll talk about the most random stuff he comes up with, if you need help with some grounding excercises, he knows plenty of those, if you need some contact, he'll gladly pull you into his lap and pet your hair while whispering comforting words into your ear.
If you get anxious or uncomfortable anywhere at any time, you can 100% tell him. He even encourages it. He'll whisk you away, somewhere where you'll feel safer.
If your anxiety makes you unable to speak, you two have a gesture that you both agreed on for instances like these, maybe a few taps on his shoulder, a squeeze of his hand, something like that and he knows he needs to get you out of wherever you two are.
If you go to therapy because of your anxiety and don't like it, feel discouraged, Bucky is great at comforting you.
He himself isn't really that thrilled about his therapy, but that's mainly because it feels weird to him to open up to someone who listen's to him because it is their job to do so, he feels weird talking about his deepest feelings and fears with someone who he doesn't know anything about. And the fact that his therapy wasn't really his choice is not helping as well.
If you wanna change therapists, he's totally onboard with you. But he'll remind you that feeling like it's not working happens sometimes, and that you should not give up. You deserve to be happy and healthy.
I love this
The main 3 u.a teachers with a genz student reader
(I know Gran Torino isn’t a teacher at u.a, but I came up with ideas on how’d he react too)

Fucking done.
He already had to deal enough with Bakugo and Midoriya always being troublemakers and making him have to do more paperwork than usual, but now you adding your humor? Yeah he’s done goodnight.
To scare you he literally said he’d kick you out of u.a and your reply? “That’s poggers dude.” How? HOW ARE YOU NOT SCARED?!
At this point he’s scared you might become a Ms.Joke 2.0
“Hey sensei if I did a black flip while jumping down will you give me extra credits?” “Yes.” You start climbing the fence and everyone starts screaming while pulling you back down.

Blames toshinori 100%
“Y/N you shouldn’t let all for one tell you that...” “hey I didn’t ask to be born.” .... “TOSHINORI WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING THEM?!” “W-what how is this my fault?”
Every single time he mentions how shigaraki or All for one could kill you so you need to be careful and you’ll literally say “what if I want to be killed? Nothing wrong with that.” For FUCK sake Y/N take this more seriously.
Still continues to blame toshinori till this day “you don’t love the young poor girl enough do you?” “What?! Of course I do! She’s my daughter and I want nothing for the best for her.” “Oh yeah? Then why does she mention about dying for 3 minutes?” “I DON’T KNOW!”
It’s a full out argument.

Will joke with you, until you make a joke about death and he will slowly retreat before going to Aizawa and asking why do you joke about your death so much and Aizawa is like ??? I don’t know either.
Aizawa begs him not to encourage your memes, but one day Aizawa comes into the classroom only to see memes plastered on the walls and on every student’s desk... yeah he knows it’s you, but he’s too tired to scold you.
Present Mic will ask you to help him understand Gen z humor and you will happily help him and lord help Aizawa because present mic starts using the memes you showed him. *aizawa cries*
I have never seen a single episode of Mha in my life.
But this...
this has made me feel a certain way.
And I don't know if a good way or bad way.
I was honestly shaken.
And I'm gonna read it again XD
An Eye for an Eye // yandere poly EraserMic x Reader

a concept i teased a little while back and decided to make into a full story! I originally wanted to get this out on halloween, but you all see how that’s worked out :p
tags/warnings for angst, violence and physical fighting, kidnapping, abuse, manipulation, obsession, failed escape attempt, so on so forth im not even sure what all to tag at this point. this is honestly pretty long for me to be posting the whole thing on tumblr, so prepare for a long read, this bad boy sits at almost 8000 words!
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“Food’s good tonight. Did you try something new with the sauce?”
“Oh, you noticed, huh? Yeah, I thought I’d try somethin’ different, ya know? Switch it up!”
You could applaud these two for keeping their tones so casual, if the fact didn’t make you so disgusted, that is. It takes everything you have not to cringe when you happen to glance over to meet a pair of bright green eyes looking at you filled with adoration. “What do you think, babe? Thought I’d put some of yer favorite flavors in it! Ya like it?”
Another dinner, another forced bonding session. You just give Yamada a look of muted hatred, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, not a sound leaving your mouth as you just look back down to your meal. A few more bites, just a few more bites, and you’d go back to your room, you tell yourself. God, even just sitting here with them was like some kind of fucked-up domestic torture. They didn’t deserve to hear you speak.
Hizashi doesn’t seem to take the hint, scooting his chair closer to yours from around the small circular dining table. “Aw, don’t be that way, sugar! I’m just tryna see whatcha like, since you’ve barely been eatin’ lately!”
You scowl, muttering under your breath. “Gee, I wonder why. Such a fucking mystery.”
Just like that, it’s quiet again, nothing but the occasional clink of silverware against the ceramic plates. The blonde pouts, unsure how to reply to your hostility, taking a moment to sip from his wine, shooting his partner a look from across the table while long slender fingers drum against the hard, wooden surface almost anxiously. Shouta finally clears his throat to break the silence.
“So,” The instructor begins while you’re mid-bite. “the next time you feel like playing locksmith, you should probably reconsider.”
There’s a noticeable tensing of your posture, and you have to clear your throat as your food seems to stick in your airway. “See, I was going to get something out of our lockbox the other day,” Scarlet liquid spins around in the wineglass as Aizawa swirls it casually. “and wouldn’t you know, someone thought it would be cute to try and get in it without the key, and wound up breaking the lock.” His dark eyes narrow at you. “So? Care to explain?”
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Hi.
I'm in the hospital right now and I don't know when I'll be able to go home. I'm pretty sure I'll be going to a mental institute for some time too, so I don't know when I'll be able to work on your requests.
So I'm sorry that it's gonna take longer to finish them and I'm closing requests until stated otherwise. Thank you.
hello if mashup is still open can i ask you for one ? ( it’s my first time to ask about mashup and idk how to ask )
i’m female she/he/they infp
i’m bisexual and i’m 5’3 i have tan skin and very dark brown that is close to black and very dark brown eyes
i’m shy and hard working and i talk too much when it’s someone that i like or intersted in i love jokes or humor and i keep making jokes and meme mostly also i’m a cheerful person ( all of these infront of close people or people who i feel comfortable)
i’m lowkey sensitive and i overthink over small things
i love wearing 80s or 90s style and with purple aesthetic
my english is really bad sorry:(( hope you have a great day !!
Don't worry about it lovely, I understand you just fine <3 Next time requesting, I'd maybe advise you to add more info, like your hobbies etc. ;) I match you with:
Undertaker

This man is so amused by your shyness, it's hard to believe honestly.
He would tease you for being shy. Not too seriously, but he likes seeing you blush, so he'd tease you with his words or maybe with some well placed innocent touches.
However, as soon as you open up to him and show him your energetic side, he's over the moon! And definitely wouldn't go back ;)
If you start rambling around him, he won't stop you, he'll let you talk about whatever you want, smiling an amused smile as you do.
This man loves jokes. He could do his job with jokes as a payment if that was possible.
So you can bet your ass he's gonna listen to every single one you make around him.
And if you explained memes to him??? This man would become an instant memer. The student would soon beat the teacher as they say.
I headcanon that his favourite ones are the most nonsensical, purely gen z ones.
Undertaker would def. have a Tumblr given a chance.
He's great at taking your mind off of things. If you worry about something a lot to the point where it consumes most of your energy and/or makes you anxious, he'll pull you aside and try to do stuff with you, like baking his signature cookies!
He's also great at calming you down. If somebody unintentionally hurts your feelings, he would reassure you of the truth and mutter sweet nothing to you.
But if somebody tries to hurt your feelings intentionally...well, your boyfriend still is an undertaker and they should be reminded of that.