Ok Deleting Allat Thats Embarrassing ANYWAYS. Time To WRITE Gaymers

ok deleting allat thats embarrassing ANYWAYS. time to WRITE gaymers

okay but like.

the leagues gotta eat. and foods getting expensive nowadays. so really, robbing that bank wasn't their fault, not entirely. you couldn't blame someone for wanting to sustain themselves, right?

you mulled over your thoughts as your car, a beautiful, midnight green mclaren 765 LT. it was your favorite, out of all the cars supplied to you so far. how shigaraki had gotten his paws on it, you didn't know and you didn't care. it wasn't your job to care, it was only your job to drive.

so that's what you fucking did. always fast, always far, cool and calm and collected, and grinning like the cat who got the canary.

and the best part? well, the best part was the fucking music, your music, blasting in your ears through your earbuds. you'd cause too much attention to yourself if there was a mclaren sitting on the street, sir mix-a-lot seeping through the windows.

you were so lost in your own thoughts that when dabi threw open the car door, shoving a bag of money in the very limited back seat, you jumped slightly. you watched with wide eyes as dabi scrambled into the seat next to you, slamming the door behind him as he gasped for air.

"what are you fucking waiting for, an invitation?" he snapped, waving at you. "fucking drive!"

you sprang into action, shifting gears and tearing out of the parking spot. traffic wasn't too heavy, but people were fucking idiots nowadays, so you kept your eyes on the road and your foot on the gas.

mmhfyghb. baby driver inspired fic w dabi. hrhrhrhhf.

𝑳𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓: 𝑫𝒂𝒚 3.2

Author's Note: Enjoy!

Content: Twilight. That's the content warning.

Word Count: 2051

Summary: Entering your second year at college, only a few months after being broken up with, you weren't expecting anything special. Especially not in the romance department. But then a quiet, but friendly-enough boy on your floor catches your attention faster than you would like to admit. And oh, boy, are you in deep.

“Hanami literally what do I do?” You wailed, pacing around your small corner of the room. It was only around 5pm, but that meant you only had three hours until you were meeting Shigaraki for the movie. 

“Didn’t you meet him like, two days ago?” Hanami asked, not looking up from her computer. “Why are you so worked up about this?”

You groaned and threw your hands up in the air. “I dunno! Cause- he like, flirted with me earlier, I think, and he’s really cute in like a wet cat kind of way!” 

Hanami laughed, whether it was at your behavior or your word choice you couldn’t tell. “He’s just a guy. Calm down. It’s not like you’re going to be in his dorm or anything, you’re just going to be watching a movie on the lawn.” 

You nodded and let out a pathetic noise. You seriously needed to work on some shit if you were this worked up over a guy after knowing him for two days. “Just- augh.” You sat down in your chair with a heavy sigh. 

“Augh?” 

“Augh. Hanami, what's wrong with me?” 

“Attachment issues?” 

You gaped at her in mock disgust. “Haven’t you only known me for two days?” 

“Yeah, and I can already tell you have attachment issues,” Hanami joked, making a heart with her hands at you from her bed. 

“Wow,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. You froze. “Ohmygod, wait, what if he thinks I’m being desperate?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“...That’s not the point,” you said, pouting. “Anyway, should I like… bring food or something?” 

Hanami looked at you disparagingly. “We don’t really have… movie snacks…” 

You glanced at the meager little snack cart that you had placed by your bed. “I have plantain chips.” 

Hanami deadpanned. “Really?”

“Oh my god, wait, what if he’s allergic to plantain chips?” 

“Do you even know what movie it is?”

“No.” 

You jumped back up and started pacing again, anxiety coiling underneath your heart. Hanami only stared at you as you walked a groove into the floor. You grumpily snatched up a lollipop (caramel apple, because fuck you they’re good), and decided you would get some homework done before the movie, to keep your mind from running into next week. 

It wasn’t long before it was two minutes till eight, and your phone buzzed. 

You coming? From Shigaraki. 

yuh! i’ll bring a blanket too!  

You sighed and shut your phone off, slipping it into your back pocket before grabbing the blanket that lived at the end of your bed. 

“Right,” you sighed. “I’m off. No plantain chips.” 

Hanami looked up at your thrown-back shoulders, courtesy of false bravado that everything would be fine. She smiled at you. “You’ll be fine. Just relax and have fun.” 

“Right,” you repeated with a nod. “It’ll be fine.” 

With one last self-reassuring sigh, you left your room, and made your way to the lawn of Briggs Hall, which was directly in front of your building. The air outside nipped at your face and fingers, and you buried them deeper into the blanket in your arms as you looked around for Shigaraki’s pale hair. You did spot it, eventually, lit up by his phone as he stared down at it quietly, set pretty far away from everyone else. 

You shook any last nerves off and made your way over to him, calling his name quietly when you got close enough to not have to shout to be heard. Ahead of the both of you, a projector screen was flickering blue as the movie got set up, and you threw the blanket over the ground next to Shigaraki. He looked up at the sound of his name. 

“Hey,” he said, nodding at you. He shuffled over from his place on the grass and tucked his phone away. 

“Hi,” you replied, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the blanket. “Do you know what movie they’re playing?” 

Shigaraki grimaced, and you felt your heart sink as he muttered, “Twilight.” 

Your shoulders fell and you groaned louder than was probably appropriate. “Dear God, why?” 

The only response you got was a shrug as he looked up, the infamously cringey lines playing through the speakers as the quite honestly gorgeous forest scenery played out. The camera footage was shaky, and despite knowing that it was from someone’s perspective, you couldn’t help but wince. “This movie is so bad .” 

Shigaraki snickered beside you, keeping his eyes on the screen. “At least I know you have good taste.” 

You hummed and sighed, settling into the blanket and resigned yourself to watching the shitty acting and blue-tinted film. You found yourself wanting to die more than a little bit every time one of the characters opened their mouths, only to hesitate, or gasp, or stutter, or fry their voice.  

“No one talks like this…” you muttered. “Not even back in the 2000s…” 

“Did you read the books?” 

You started as Shigaraki asked you a question, the full force of his intense red gaze on you. “Uh- no no. I mean, I started the first book, but I couldn’t finish it. Did you?” 

Shigaraki nodded, which was surprising. “Toga kind of made me. Kept going on about some book club she wanted to start and then Dabi got into it. Not sure if he genuinely liked it or if it was just to peer pressure me into reading the damn series. I’ve never watched the movies though.” 

You couldn’t hold back your snort at the thought of the tall, dark, brooding man liking something as cringe-worthy as Twilight. Shigaraki chuckled at your snort, and that sound was. Nice. Entirely too nice. You felt heat rush through your cheeks and you were glad for the distraction of the movie so Shigaraki didn’t have to see your flustered expression. 

“Honestly, Dabi seems like the type,” you eventually muttered. “Like, unironically.” 

“Don’t say that,” Shigaraki groused. He seemed annoyed now. “Nothing is ever ironic, or unironic.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, grammar police.” 

He hummed, but didn’t say anything more. The next twenty or so minutes were spent in silence, just watching the shitty acting. Eventually Shigaraki spoke up again. 

“Bella is so fucking stupid.” 

You chuckled and nodded. You shifted and groaned softly; your back was starting to ache from being so hunched over, and you were starting to get uncomfortable.  You huffed and eventually flopped onto your stomach, swinging your legs behind you like a teenage girl on the phone. A moment later, you were joined by Shigaraki, who had forgone kicking his legs up like you. You two were so close you could feel the warmth of his shoulder through his jacket, and you did your best to not turn and stare, to not tense up or even, God forbid, lean into him. 

“This okay?” He asked quietly, almost a whisper. 

You dared to glance at him. He was already looking at you, his eyes soft. You blinked rapidly at him, tried to not let how close he was affect you, tried not to stare, dammit. But he was so pretty up close, wavy, powder blue hair framing his face in a way that made him seem cute. Sure, his jaw was sharp, but he had more fat to his cheeks than his usual hunched posture would allow anyone to notice, and his eyes were lidded and sleepy. Seductive, almost. 

His cracked lips pulled, the scar on the side of his mouth separating as he spoke. Wait, fuck he was talking. 

“Sorry- uh, I-” you cleared your throat in a way that you hoped was casual and unfortunately you knew wasn’t. “I wasn’t paying attention, sorry.” 

“I asked if this was okay, and you didn’t respond so I asked if you were okay. You were staring.” 

His tone was entirely too smug. 

“Yeah! Yeah yeah, I’m fine. This is fine. All fine.” Your heart felt like it was trying to crawl out of your throat.

Shigaraki nodded, still looking smug and radiating that same energy that felt suffocating. There was a tension that felt overwhelming. You pursed your lips and looked up ahead at the screen. 

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” 

The tension broke, and you buried your face in your hands, snorting. Shigaraki chuckled beside you, and you felt like you could breathe again. 

The rest of the movie passed in a calmer manner. You two would occasionally crack jokes at the character’s expense, mocking them enough that eventually some people in front of you turned over their shoulders and sent nasty glares your way, and you piped down. You still couldn’t stop the quiet groans of discomfort at the bad acting and gag-worthy fight scenes. Seriously, who shouted like that? It was gross. And you told Shigaraki as much, who, to your heart’s delight, snickered quietly every time and only encouraged you further. 

You shivered at the crisp night air wrapping around you, it had only gotten colder the later it got. Shigaraki shifted next to you again, resting his chin on intertwined hands as the final scenes of the dumb movie played out. The screen illuminated his face, highlighting his features prettily, and despite the both of you having been scoffing, his eyes were soft. 

Fuck, you were staring again. But he hadn’t noticed, or you hoped he hadn’t noticed. The both of you were in a quiet, calm little bubble, away from the rest of the world, and you… liked it. You liked being alone with him, it was nice. It was broken by Shigaraki huffing at the final scenes, Bella and Edward being ridiculously awkward. 

The end credits began to roll and the screen dimmed. You inhaled sharply, the cold air stinging your lungs. It was moments like these that made the now-returning, unspoken tension between you almost unbearable in its quiet intensity. People sat and stood up around you and started heading back to their dorms, and you felt Shigaraki stand up, too. You watched as he stretched, his tummy showing just barely, and he groaned as the stiffness left his muscles. 

His gaze flickered at you, watchful, content. 

“So, what’d you think?” You asked, sitting up and stretching your arms behind your head yourself. 

“It was… bad.” Shigaraki wrinkled his nose in disgust and stepped off your blanket, and you followed suit. “Like, really fucking bad.”

You only shook your head in agreement and stood up, grabbing your blanket and folding it neatly. “Definitely funny, though,” you told him. “In like a, ‘this is so bad it’s hilarious,’ kind of way.” 

He nodded, agreeing with you. “I guess.” 

You nodded back, the both of you standing awkwardly as the movie players started dismantling everything. You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet. Silence stretched between you. 

“Well, I should let you go to sleep,” you muttered eventually. “It’s 10pm.” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “See you in class tomorrow.” 

“See ya.” 

You watched as he walked back towards your dorm, then realized, oh shit, you lived there too, and skittered after him. He was waiting at the door, holding it open as he watched you make the most awkward, “I’m not sprinting but I’m also not walking,” jog in your life. You ducked underneath him and opened the next door for him, and all of a sudden the silence was too loud. You bit your lip to stop yourself from blurting out something stupid. 

The trek to your room was faster than you’d have liked, and you gave Shigaraki one final wave as he disappeared down the hallway. You flopped down into your chair and buried your face in your hands. Hanami snickered at you. 

“That bad?” She prodded. 

“Omigawd, Hanami!” You whined through your fingers in despair. “It was fine up until the very end!” 

Hanami looked up at you from her bed, her voice sympathetic. “What happened?” 

You let out a groan, allowing your hands to fall into your lap. “It- we- ugh.”

Hanami waited patiently. 

“It was fine, and then the movie ended and I didn’t know what to say, and shit just got awkward, and then we left, and it was just… so awkward.”

“You poor thing,” Hanami cooed, less sympathetic. “I’m sure things will get better. Just give it time.” 

You could only hope she was right.

End Notes: i <3 writing for hanami shes based off my actual roommate (she's not teasing me abt a hot cool crush tho 😔)

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WAAH THIS LOOKS LIKE FUN

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / rbf / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

tagging anyone who wants to do this!!!!

tag game 🤭

rules: color the sentence that's true about you

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

this is a whole lot of yellow lmfao

no pressure tags: @marthawrites @schniiipsel @aemonddtargaryen @aemondsbabe @adragonprinceswhore @arcielee @black-dread @lovelykhaleesiii @aemondsbabygirl @valeskafics @connorsui

Live-in Boyfriend! Dabi/Touya who is highly curious about your self-care routine. The creams, the scrubs, the tools, the processes, and all the smells that permeate the house when you’re having yourself a spa day in your shared space. He watches as you scrub your body in the shower with this paste. What did you call it? “Unicorn dreams”? It was rainbow colored and smelled like mangos and guava. He liked it. He liked when you used it and he cuddled up to you in bed that night he could smell it on your skin and it made him feel like he was in paradise. He’d pull you closer and bury his face in your neck and inhale deeply, it always made him feel good. He would watch when you brought out that awful looking metal thing you used to get rid of any zits you’d have and look on in awe/disgust of the stuff that came out of your face. He watched as you washed your face with this herby smelling green goo and then roll this pink stone (he thinks it might be rose quartz? He remembers you saying it was rose quartz) thing over your face and how it seemed to soothe your previously swollen skin. He would join you in your “bath nights” You and him would shower, clean the tub, and fill it up with hot ass water, sprinkle some stuff in it that makes it smell like lavender and lemon, and he’d sit with you in the tub and was fascinated by the fizzy thing moving on top of the water leaving rainbows and glitter in its wake. He’d watch you do all this, interested by all of it but unless it was the bath, never participated in it. Why should he? His skin was, uh less than perfect he would say. He wasn’t worried about a zit when his face was 70% burned. He liked the shampoo you used but didn’t think it mattered about what he used, as long as it washed out some of the ash in his hair, he wasn’t worried about it. He didn’t think self-care was for someone like him, someone who didn’t care about themselves. But you noticed every time he watched you exfoliate, lotion, cleanse, shampoo, and wash yourself with all your products. He looked like he wanted to join. You knew he didn’t know who to ask for the things he wanted. So, you have him join you. On one of your spa nights you call for him from you guys bathroom. He walks in the bathroom to see two fluffy head bands with a huge bow on them. “This one’s for you, and this is mine!” He looks confused but lets you put on the Hello Kitty head band anyway. You wash his face, teach him how to apply a mask, watch and advise him as he exfoliates his face and you give him his own rose quartz face roller that he’s definitely obsessed with once he uses it. After a long and relaxing shower, you and him put on some eye masks while you drink some fruity water and watch some Twitch streams. Dabi feels, good. He feels clean, he feels taken care of. He’s happy, he smells like mangos and guavas, his skin feels soft and jiggly like a pudding. He likes self-care and he’s happy that you’re the only who showed him that he’s worth it.

its something they think they grew out of <- This phrase you said about kids being hit but the parent later stops has just been rolling around of my head. Like oh thats truly how a good portion of society (myself included) just accepts happens to themselves and to others and how sometimes in tv parents go “You’re not too grown that I can’t hit you anymore” like why is this normalized

well! the short and sweet answer is that society views children not as their own persons, but as an extension of their parents, to be either coddled or abused as the parent sees fit. since the abuse stops by the time they've achieved their own personhood, it's not seen as relevant

the messier but also true answer is that children experiencing physical abuse tend to find the whole physical part of it that least upsetting bit of it. if the child doesn't care, and the parent doesn't care, then nobody else is going to care either. not to mention that time softens it even further. and by the time you've grown up enough to go "hey what the fuck was that all about" you're also so far removed from it that it feels almost childish to dig into it - because your childhood was smeared with violence, and so violence now feels like a childish thing

excepting extreme cases, the pain of abuse isn't something that lingers. bruises and bloody noses. the marks of a perfectly healthy childhood even, except yours isn't from tumbling from the jungle gym or schoolyard battles, but because an adult decided to put their hands on you, to teach a lesson that if you forgot then your skin would remember

the part that hurts is that they wanted to hurt you. the thing that lingers is the stress of not knowing the next time they'd hurt you. what gnaws at you is that you are so small and your parents are your whole world and all you want is them to love you. so you justify it. you excuse you it, you ignore it, perhaps you even start to act out, so that the next time you're bruised and bloody you at least feel like you earned it (if you earn it then it's not their fault, then it's not because there's something wrong with them - a fact that if true is terrifying because there's nothing you can do about it - but with you, the one person you can control)

the pain isn't actually the problem. often, the pain is a relief

if it's something you can grow out of, that's a good thing. because it means their disdain and lack of care and the thought that you're not being loved right is something you can outgrow, something you can leave behind in childhood, and that's what you want

but the truth of it is that if your parents don't love you properly as a child, they won't love you properly as an adult

the reason people often think of it as something that can be outgrown is that they're desperate for it to be something they can outgrow

the reason parents physically harming their child is so damaging isn't because it causes them pain, although of course that's bad. it's because it breaks their heart