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dawn-moths · 1 year

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“Scarlet & Serenity”

Tomura Shigaraki x Female Reader

word count: 11,800+

(Tomura’s never been one to celebrate birthdays, especially his own. But you’re insistent on making sure he has a good day, wanting to do a few things for him that could mark the occasion as special. Although he’s resistant to the idea at first, he slowly begins to come around, and at the end of the day, whether he’ll admit it out loud or not, it’s a birthday that he’ll always remember.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with some smut at the end, aftercare, soft Tomura, established relationship, reference to past sexual harassment in the workplace, mentions of stealing to survive.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Serenity.

Like feeling the gentle weight of sleep settle over you after a long day, body swaddled in warm blankets and mind sated by the slow drip of oncoming unconsciousness.

Like laying under a sky full of stars and suddenly feeling so insignificant, like, as a tiny spec in the universe, maybe the problems you thought you had weren’t so bad after all.

That’s what you felt like to him.

Or rather, that’s how he felt being around you.

It was your quirk, not you, you were constantly reminding yourself of whenever the two of you got a little too close for a little too long. Serenity was the name of your quirk, and it did just as its title implied.

For anyone within a five foot range of you, no matter how they were feeling or what they were going through, if they stayed within your invisible bubble, all they would feel was a sense of overwhelming calm.

Some people had told you it felt a little like being high, easy to become addicted to if you didn’t set boundaries with certain individuals, while others compared it to the safest sensation they’ve ever known, reminded of how they remember being held and comforted by their mothers if they’d been lucky to have a good enough relationship with them.

Tomura had cued into your quirk almost instantly, back when you two had first crossed paths. For someone that was always on edge, whether from the itching or the intense, paranoid focus he needed to carry out the League’s plans, the moment he passed you on the street and felt that weight lift, it had almost brought him to his knees, exhausted by the phantom that clung to him, unable to shake it off no matter how hard he tried.

Until you.

Things had moved pretty quickly after that and, in some ways, over the past couple years you’d convinced yourself that it was all probably meant to be. You’d been pretty down on your luck right before you encountered him, so when he’d invited you to join the League— to belong to a family of misfits who’d been forgotten or cast out by society just like you— well…

It hadn’t been a hard decision to make.

And you fit in here, with the League. You fit in with the mishmash of personalities and tragic pasts and quirks that, in another life or different hands, might’ve been deemed good instead of evil.

Your quirk, of course, was a lot easier to lend itself to the heroes who romped like celebrities about the streets and, while you might not’ve been able to go pro with it, at one point in your life you’d seriously considered using it to help people, like going to work for a hospital in the ICU, sitting bedside by the floor’s worst patients, subduing their agony even if only temporarily.

But that had all changed when you’d lost your job, your boss firing you after you’d rejected his rather forward attempts to get a little closer to your quirk.

But, surprisingly, that time it hadn’t even really been about your quirk, you’d later come to find. He’d just been a creep who wanted to get close to you or any of the other young new interns, as if he wasn’t already handsy with most of the women in the company.

Part of you was glad to leave that place, but after he’d made a false report that you’d used your quirk on him to get yourself a raise— the very same raise he’d tried to use as the trade off for letting him sleep with you— comparing what you were capable of to mind control, there was a black mark on your reputation and your resume for any other job you’d tried to apply for after.

You’d lost your nice apartment on the safer side of the city, but even after your move to a cheaper, dingier place, month after month passed with no way to pay the bills. Eventually, when you started receiving notices threatening to turn off your heating and water, you’d been forced to turn to your last resort.

If they wanted to paint you as a villain, then you’d become one.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t used your quirk’s effect on people to get what you wanted before, though it was still a far cry from “mind control” as your previous boss had testified, so convincing night shift cashiers at local convenience stores to let you walk out with arms full of food and supplies you’d sweet talked them into believing you didn’t need to pay for became your regular method of survival.

What you’d been guilty of before joining the League was kindergarten compared to pretty much all of the other members, and Tomura had tried to keep you away from the brunt of the violence and the bloodshed. He liked to make sure you were kept safe and ready to help ease his mind the moment he returned to the hideout, falling into your arms battered and bruised and not getting up until you either convinced him to let you clean his wounds or he fell asleep and you carefully shifted him onto his back on the mattress you two shared more nights than not. You’d go clean yourself up, sometimes tending to a few of his more minor injuries while he slept before curling into his side and letting your energy invade his dreams.

Though, Tomura had told you before, when he slept next to you he didn’t dream. It was the best he could hope for, as most nights before you he’d been plagued by vicious, gruesome nightmares. Horrible memories that repeated themselves over and over and over again in a tortuous loop. He would be awoken by them with a sudden, panicked jolt, though usually he couldn’t even recall the dreams until he was plunged back into them again.

So, yeah. You’d become a regular occurrence in all the members’ lives. But everyone knew that you did far more for Tomura than you did for anyone else. No one would say it, but everyone knew that you might be the only weakness their leader had, a crutch that, if taken away, could spell catastrophe for all of them. Meanwhile, it was a theory that you and Tomura tried to ignore, acting like there was nothing special between you two and just living day by day.

***

“Hey…” You greeted Tomura with a crooked smile as he walked into the bar. It was past noon, but he was usually a late sleeper. Especially since he tended to stay up till the early hours of the morning, whether by getting sucked into some new game or tossing and turning through the night. Most times you slept in with him, slowly but surely having fallen into his sleeping schedule the more time you spent together, but today you’d risen early (as in an hour ago, just moments before AM switched to PM) in order to begin preparations for a very special surprise.

“Hey…” Tomura returned the greeting, his voice a little raspier than usual. He cleared his throat and gave his neck a few light scratches, trying to pull his hoodie higher to hide the deeper, redder tracks that he’d etched into his skin when he’d woken up to find the space in bed next to him empty. “What’re you doing?”

You tried to hide the beaming grin you felt your face wanting to make. You were never a great liar, but even so you replied with a slightly lilting, “Nothing…” as he approached you, letting out a quiet hum when his hands took careful purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, nuzzling his face in your hair and allowing himself to linger in your calmness until the anxiousness that crawled beneath his skin subsided.

You let him hold you like that for as long as he wanted. Always. You knew how much he needed it, and for someone who felt like you did the least for the League as a whole, you took how much you knew you did for Tomura individually as your consolation for that fact. Besides, without the leader, what was the League?

Tomura mumbled something into your hair, and you looked up at him and asked through a breathy chuckle, “What?”

“I said, what’s all this?” He repeated, only putting enough distance between you two so he could look you in the eyes, his arms still encircling your waist. He nodded his head towards the back counter of the bar, glancing at the opaque plastic bags that sat there.

“Oh…” you rolled your eyes, cracking a wider smile, “That…” Then you narrowed your gaze at him, mischievous. “That’s a secret.”

Tomura’s chapped lips curved up into his own brand of mischief, his three fingered grip flexing slightly on your hips. “C’mon,” he tried to pry, giving you a light shake, more of a sway, really. “You know I hate surprises.”

Now it was your turn to eye the bags, knowing full well what was inside. You’d worked hard to steal each and every one of the items over the past few weeks, after all.

“It’s not a surprise,” you corrected, nuzzling your head back into his chest, taking in the familiar scent of him— the scent that had slowly become your own. “At least, not if you know what day it is today.”

Tomura’s sparse brows pinched slightly as he tried to decipher your words. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked at a calendar or even bothered to check the date on his phone. He was pretty sure it was about to be April. Or, wait, maybe it already was…

He let out a sigh caught halfway between despondency and annoyance, shifting to lean his back against one of the counters, pulling you along with him and nearly causing you to stumble. “Shit…” he droned, throwing his head back a little while wearing a look that was blatantly unamused. “Don’t tell me this is about—”

“It’s about doing something nice for you,” you cut him off, already having gotten the sense Tomura wouldn’t be very receptive to anyone— even if it was you— celebrating his birthday. Hell, he didn’t even want the day acknowledged.

You knew this, and yet, you couldn’t help but try.

“How’d you find out?” he asked, staying still and letting you clasp your hands behind his neck, shifting some of your weight back onto your heels and tugging him forward an inch or two.

It was Toga. Obviously, it was Toga, though you had no idea the method she’d used to discover the birthday of the most feared villain in Japan. On second thought, for all you knew, it might’ve been just as easy as Googling it.

“Not telling,” you sung out, voice still low and playful, raising yourself onto your tippy toes for a second to plant a quick peck on his cheek before parting from his grasp and circling back around to the bags on the bar counter, peeking inside to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. “But I do have a few little things planned for you, so stop sulking and just humor me, alright.”

When you turned to face him once more, Tomura stood with his arms crossed, staring you down with silent interrogation.

“Oh, come on,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to mirror him. “It’s only one day out of the entire year. It’ll be fun.” You flashed another one of those quick, fleeting smirks, still trying to contain your excitement, despite the fact that it wasn’t rubbing off on Tomura the same way your Serenity did. “Trust me.”

“Whatever you say…” he sighed, pushing off from where he was leaning and beginning to pad out the way he came with bare feet against the cold, unswept floor. “But this is just another day for me. Birthdays are a pointless tradition anyway. I never even liked them, so don’t expect me to start caring now.”

“Tomura—” He was already halfway to the doorway.

Cutting you off and swiveling on one heel, pointing a finger at you, he accusingly ordered, “And no singing. No cake either.”

You were captured in a moment of shock, but then found yourself again as you placed your hands on your hips and smirked, cynically joking in a deadpan tone, “Oh, but what do I tell the barbershop quartet that’s delivering the three tier cake in an hour? They’ll be so disappointed.”

Tomura turned the corner, disappearing out of sight, but called back from down the hall. “No singing! I mean it!”

In response, all you called back was, “Ok! But I’ll be coming to find you in an hour regardless! So don’t come out here until then, alright!” He didn’t respond, but when you heard the click of the bathroom door shutting and the hiss of the shower turning on, you figured you better get to work.

He’d come around, eventually. Because, sure, there wasn’t a cake to eat or presents to open, but you were still determined to gift Tomura a day that was above average, at the very least.

You hauled the bags off the counter and around the corner into the tiny side kitchen, dumping one of them over and catching the ingredients that almost rolled off the table before setting everything out and taking stock of your supply. There had only been one spice you hadn’t been able to procure, but it wasn’t make or break when it came to preparing the dish you had in mind.

Honestly, you just hoped you remembered how to make it. It had been your childhood favorite, something your mom used to make you every year on your birthday. You hoped Tomura would like it too. It wasn’t very often he— or really any of you, for that matter— got to enjoy a nice, home cooked meal. If there ended up being enough, you’d leave some for the other League members to pick at or fight over. But for now, you had to see if you could find anything that resembled a measuring cup. If you couldn’t, this whole thing could end up turning into a disaster.

***

Two years ago, while walking home late at night from your latest convenience store run (read: robbery), you’d noticed a little too late that a strange shadow had fallen in step with your own.

Throughout your life, you’d often found it ironic that, while your quirk gave those around you a sense of calm, the aura didn’t extend to yourself.

You wished it would, especially in times like these when your heart began to race and anxiety began to creep in, slowly flooding you to the point you’d be drowning in it. It wasn’t like that was the first time some weirdo had tried to follow you, but there was something about the wary atmosphere that time that had struck you as different from the others.

You were used to people wanting to use your quirk for their own benefit, not so much regard for you as a person so long as they could feel the high of relief that came from being in your proximity. There was usually a lot of convincing and pressuring and guilt tripping when people tried to request your quirk’s services, as if you owed them somehow despite most of them not even knowing your first name. But that time, it felt more dire. Like, if whoever was trailing you didn’t reach you fast enough they might die. So you did what you always did when something like that happened.

You used your secret weapon.

Used to traveling through the maze of back alleys, you knew the twists and turns by heart. You knew which ones were shortcuts and which ones held dead ends and which ones you’d stashed weapons down.

You also knew which ones would greet you with escape routes.

So you took a sharp left turn, then a right, and then, standing amidst a brick barrier on three sides, the fourth now blocked by a lanky, hooded silhouette, you turned to face him.

The first time you’d seen Tomura, you hadn’t felt threatened, weirdly enough. And maybe it was because you didn’t yet know the real danger he posed, or who he really was. Or maybe it was the fact that you could see pain and desperation shining in his eyes, pleading for even just one more second of ease from what it felt like to live in his skin on the daily that he’d been granted for the fleeting moment you two had crossed paths on the street.

“What do you want?” you’d asked, and, if he hadn’t been so distracted from chasing that feeling of peace, he might’ve found it a little odd that your voice was void of any trembling trepidation. You’d sounded sure of yourself, like, despite your odds, you held the upper hand here.

And you did, you knew. Because behind the rusted old dumpster pushed against the wall a few feet behind you, there was a perfectly you-sized hole that led into the abandoned shopping center that composed part of this maze. You’d be able to slip through and disappear within a matter of seconds. Y’know, so long as the guy standing before you didn’t have some kind of teleportation quirk.

Tomura hadn’t quite known what to say, honestly. He’d honed in on you and now that he nearly had you, for once he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could take you by force, he figured, but the closer he got to you the more he started to think maybe that wouldn’t be the best approach.

Just barely skirting on the edge of your quirk’s five foot range, he felt his hammering heartbeat begin to slow and his uneven breathing smooth out. He felt his shoulders sag and the usual race-around skin crawling that ate away at him endlessly from the inside out subside.

He looked straight into your eyes and asked, “Who are you?”

With your posture now rigid and ready to run, you replied with hostility, too confident for your own good, “More trouble than I’m worth, if you try anything.”

Tomura took another shuffling step forward which caused you to take two steps back, like a magnet pushed away by a similar pole.

“Wait—” His raspy voice cut through the cold, quiet night air, giving you pause as you prepared to whirl on your heel and dart into the escape route. “This feeling… It’s your quirk, isn’t it?” You remained silent that time, half of you intrigued by him, catching a glimpse of those big, red eyes from between all that pale, fluffy hair that was half illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Meanwhile, the rest of your better judgment just screamed at you to run, run, run.

“And what if it is?” you answered, a disgruntled tightness to your tone, tired of being used by strangers for something that you had no control over and couldn’t even reap the benefits from. You felt like your body belonged to everyone else but you sometimes. You weren’t about to let another person— especially someone who’d been brazen enough to stalk you— take what they wanted for free.

Tomura took one more cautious step forward, putting himself back into the radius of your aura, and tugged down his hood, giving you a better look at him, at the scars and the scaly, dry patches around his eyes and forehead, the angry red scratch tracks scored into his neck. He said, “How much?” and for a moment you’d thought you hadn’t heard him right.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For your quirk,” he clarified. “How much for you to…” he chose his next words very carefully. “How much for you to lend it to me?”

You shot him a scowl and a skeptical squint. “Lend it to you?” you repeated, sounding almost offended. “Look, buddy, I’m not for sale. So why don’t you just hurry along before—”

“I saw you rob that store,” he leveraged, threatened, somewhere between the two. “You’re down on cash, yeah? Well, maybe we can reach some kind of…” His hands fidgeted from where they were tucked inside his hoodie pocket, putting you on higher alert and causing you to flinch closer towards the hole in the wall. Then he sighed, seeming to grow frustrated with himself, and simply stated, “Just give me five minutes. Name your price, and I’ll pay it. Only five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

Similar to being followed, this also wasn’t the first time someone had tried to hire you for your quirk. If you really needed the money and the stranger didn’t seem too sketchy, you’d usually take the offer. But those deals were made by daylight, in public, usually sitting beside them on a park bench or walking with them through the city where, if they tried anything, there would be witnesses.

Here, in the middle of the night alone in a vacant alley, you thought to accept the deal would be a poor business decision. Besides, money wouldn’t be worth very much to you if you were dead.

But he was right. You needed money. You knew each store you robbed would only let it go unnoticed for so long, and even as the night-shifter manning the register would inevitably fall for the lull of Serenity and your meticulously practiced sweet-talking, once the effect wore off and their boss chewed them out for letting some random girl walk out without paying time after time, well…

Previous mishaps had made you make a rule that you’d only hit each store twice before moving onto a new one for a reason.

You were running out of chances and out of local konbinis to steal from, so you figured it was now or never. Plus, it’s not like you couldn’t pull the knife you kept on you and bolt if this guy tried to get a little too handsy. His blood would hardly be the first the blade had tasted and you were faster than you looked.

“Forty-thousand,” you said, part of you thinking there was no way this guy had that kind of money while the other half of you hoped against hope that somehow he did. “Forty-thousand yen for five minutes and you have yourself a deal.”

The mysterious stranger then said he had to step away to make a quick phone call, not even attempting to negotiate a lower price, which made you wish you’d asked for more, and within the minute he was back, rounding the corner with a duffle bag in hand.

Tomura dropped it with a satisfying thud on the pavement before you and it was then you couldn’t hide your shock and confusion any longer. You told him to step back while you checked it, and upon kneeling down to unzip the bag, you were met with the colorful array of bundles and bundles of yen notes.

You didn’t bother counting it. Even if this wasn’t forty-thousand, it was still more than enough for you to live on for the next couple of months. It even made you consider letting this guy be a repeat customer, if he came searching for your services again. But, on the other hand, you doubted anyone who could fork over this much cash at a moment’s notice could be the upstanding citizen type.

It’s not like you were either. You were just trying to convince yourself that stealing to survive and stealing for luxury were on two different planes. But cash was cash. And everything cost money. And it turned out it was true when they said that everyone has a price.

“Just stay back,” you ordered, Tomura beginning to reapproach once you’d slung the heavy bag over your shoulder. “You can just stay right there and the effect will be the same. I’m going to keep time. And after five minutes if you try anything I’ll—”

“Be more trouble than you’re worth,” he repeated your earlier warning, a slight, dare you call it charming smirk appearing at the corner of his cracked lips for a moment. “Don’t worry. I got it the first time.”

And so, as the most wanted villain in Japan stood five feet away from you, your eyes darted from the timer on your phone back to his face over and over again until his five minutes were up.

“That’s it,” you announced once the countdown reached zero. “Time’s up.”

And, just as promised, Tomura abided by the deal that had been made. However reluctantly, he stepped back and out of your quirk’s range, the weight of his crumbling world visibly settling heavily back on his shoulders with the way he flinched and tensed and began to scrape at his scabbed-over neck again lightly. The biggest surprise was that he didn’t demand more from you.

After that, you bid him farewell, wanting to make sure he exited the alley before you slipped in through the secret tunnel, and the only thing he said to you before leaving was an almost prideful, “Next time, ask for more.”

You must’ve stood at the end of that alley for ten more minutes, staring down into the darkness until the weight of the bag slung over your shoulder began to ache and you blinked out of your trance.

Finally, you just whispered a perplexed, “What the fuck…?” to yourself and then slipped in through the hole in the wall, clutching the duffle bag the entire way home.

***

“So this is the special surprise, huh?” Tomura said after you instructed him to take a seat at the tiny, two person table. He was trying to lay the mockery on thick, you noticed. Deep down though, you knew he was, at the very least, extremely curious as to what you’d managed to make. And, if the smell coming from the biggest cooking pot you could find over the rusty old stove was anything to go by, it was going to be good.

“Your food will be ready momentarily, Sir,” you said in an overly-sweet, fake waitressing voice, procuring two mismatching bowls and spoons from the limited kitchen supplies and scooping a serving for each of you. Then, back to your normal tone as you turned to face him, a bowl in each hand, you said with only slight disappointment, “There’s supposed to be this really good homemade bread, too, but I didn’t have time to bake it…”

Setting the soup in front of him before taking your seat across with your own food cradled between your hands, palms warmed by the bowl and heart warmed from good childhood memories, you watched and anticipated what you hoped would be a good reaction once Tomura tasted the first bite.

He knew you were eagerly waiting, taking this moment of suspense to tease you a little bit. “I dunno about this…” he said, grimacing a little as he poked around the contents with the edge of the spoon. “It looks kinda…”

Your eyes widened, suddenly horrified, thinking you’d already fucked up somehow. “What?” You stood from the table, tried to lean in to see over his bowl. “What is it? Is there—?” When you caught the prideful mischief on his face, you plopped back down into your rickety chair and gave a sarcastic, “Oh, ha ha…”

Then you took up your own spoon and had a taste for yourself. It was exactly as you remembered, aside from that little hint of spice it was missing and that crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside home baked bread. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine you were back in your mom’s kitchen, dappled sunlight streaming in and dancing across the hardwood floor.

Your satisfaction with your hard work must’ve shown on your face, because Tomura scoffed out an almost disbelieving, “That good, huh?” before finally trying the soup for himself. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath, all previous derision faded to the soft contentment that usually filled him when snuggled up close to your quirk. He met your eyes for only a moment, but that was all you needed to tell. The gratitude was there, no matter how hard he wanted to hide it.

“Told you it was gonna be special,” you said, intertwining your ankles with his under the table.

Tomura let out a quiet chuckle, swallowing the next spoonful before saying, “You shouldn’t have let me know you could cook like this. Now I’m gonna want it all the time.”

“Well maybe next year if you don’t put up such a fight then you’ll even get to try the bread too,” you joked, smiling at him with the spoon still in your mouth. He nudged your calf with his foot and you knew that was as close as you were going to get for a thank you from him. But it was enough. It was enough.

“So…” Tomura began again, trying to keep himself from wolfing the whole bowl down in one go, though as you two traded some banter and chatter between bites you’d made sure to remind him there was plenty left if he wanted more. “What about you?” he asked. “I’m guessing your birthday’s were pretty good, if this is what you got, huh?”

“I have a few I can still remember pretty well,” you admitted, searching your mind for the memories of your old life, of a little girl who didn’t yet know of hardship or pain. “But the older I got, I dunno…” You gave him a guilty look, concluding with a slightly shaky, “I guess I can’t fault you for looking at it as just another day. Especially if you’re spending that day alone.”

The narrow room fell silent for a while then, the pair of you finishing the soup with only the sound of slurping and the spoons clinking against the bowls as you both tried to catch every last drop that gathered at the bottom. Then Tomura said, “I’m gonna get you back for this you know,” which caused you to give him a confused and maybe even slightly startled look from across the small table.

“What…?” You asked when his smile— one you couldn’t tell if it was cruel or teasing— didn’t falter.

“When your special day comes around,” he clarified with a sly raise of his eyebrows. “I’m gonna get you back for this.” Now you wore a real smile. You couldn’t help but become curious about what kinds of surprises he’d plan for you, and suddenly you were looking forward to your next birthday more than you had in years.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you remarked, playfully pointing your spoon at him. He told you not to expect any home cooked meals though. In return, you pointed out that he could barely make a piece of toast on his own, forget about pulling off something with multiple ingredients.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, standing from the table and heading over to the pot on the stove, serving himself another full bowl before peering over his shoulder and asking if you wanted more as well. You held out your bowl for him to take and let him scoop some more in for you, every bite even better than the last somehow.

And so the two of you sat there and talked and ate until you were both full and feeling a little sleepy. With the added element of your calming quirk, Tomura could’ve probably dozed off right at the table, but there would be plenty of time to rest later. For now, you still had half a day left to ensure his birthday was a memorable one.

“Ok, so I lied earlier when I said there weren’t any surprises,” you admitted as you placed both your empty bowls in the sink. “There is one teeny, tiny present I might’ve been able to get my hands on.”

Tomura was back in your orbit again, never leaving the pull of Serenity’s gravity for very long, whenever you were around. He stood behind you, circling his arms around your middle and hugging you close to him. “Yeah…?” he whispered, voice sounding like he was drifting off into a dream. “Well what if I told you my present’s right here?”

***

Two weeks after that first night, you saw him again. Only, this time, it was prearranged and he’d paid you in advance.

You met him at your favorite cafe, one in the part of town you used to live in. Y’know, back when you’d had a real job and a nice apartment instead of an old, drafty one and dreamed of helping people rather than robbing them.

“Here, let me,” Tomura offered as you approached the counter to pay for your order. You just gave him a slightly skeptical look, but didn’t protest as you stepped aside and let him thumb through some crumpled cash he pulled out from his back pocket before handing it to the barista. You two remained mostly silent as you stood side by side and waited for your drinks to be made. You were tongue tied because you felt a little awkward, but Tomura was just quietly enjoying the effects of your quirk from a foot away.

You were fine with him being closer this time, since there were other people around.

“So…” You began once you two were seated across from each other, warming your hands on the hot beverage nestled between your palms while he kept a three fingered grip around his paper cup. “Do you wanna talk or you just wanna stay silent the whole time?”

Tomura perked up a bit then, eyes widening a fraction as if he’d just remembered something important. “Oh…” He cleared his throat, took a cautious sip of his coffee. “I mean, whatever you usually do is fine.”

As you sampled your own drink, you considered him with more of that wary skepticism, eyes squinted as if trying to blur his edges and unveil some hidden image amidst all that scarred, alabaster skin and silvery hair falling into his eyes.

“I dunno… It sort of just depends on the customer,” you shrugged, absentmindedly picking at the frayed edge of the cardboard cup holder as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But I guess we could talk, if you want…”

As you both took another uncomfortable sip of your drinks, avoiding direct eye contact, you were starting to fear this might become the longest hour of your life. But then Tomura spoke up, asking, “So, what are you into?” and for a moment you weren’t quite sure how to answer that.

“You mean, like, hobbies and stuff?” you clarified.

“Sure,” he gave a tired half shrug and elaborated, “Hobbies, music, movies, whatever.”

You took a second to conjure up the topics you wanted to divulge to him, then listed off a few of your favorite bands and a couple good documentaries you’d seen recently. Eventually, you turned the question to him and mostly gleaned that he loved video games. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about various RPGs and MMOs and all sorts of other terminology you’d only had a little experience in grasping.

But you were relieved that, once you guys got onto his favorite topic, he did most of the talking and the hour passed fast. When it was time for you to go you thanked him for spotting your drink, wished him a good day, and were about to be done with the exchange until Tomura caught the edge of your sleeve, the fabric pinched lightly between his two fingers, and he asked in an urgent, almost pleading way, “When can I see you again?”

You let a few beats pass before exhaling the breath you’d been holding in, already wondering if you were going to regret this before the words even left your mouth. Then you said, “If you’re willing to keep paying this much, then you can see me whenever you want.”

Tomura looked taken aback, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility, and as you tugged free of his grasp on your sleeve, you added on, “Same place and time next week, if that works for you?”

He seemed to search his mind for a moment before giving a satisfied nod and a quiet, “Yeah…”

And so your regular meetings with him began. Every week— sometimes a couple days in a row if you both were free— one hour at the cafe around noon, the new rate of sixty five-thousand yen in cash each time paid in advance.

At least, that’s how things went for the first few months.

***

Standing in the middle of the small kitchen, Tomura was almost unrecognizable when he was like this, peppering tender kisses from the crown of your head to the apple of your cheeks, across your jaw and down your neck.

At least, he’d be unrecognizable to anyone that wasn’t you.

That’s why he usually sought out Serenity in private, behind some closed door or when no one else was occupying the hideout. You two had never talked about it, but he knew you’d noticed.

That didn’t mean he was afraid to stand close to you during meetings or that the others weren’t aware of your unique relationship, but still. To openly express just how much he wanted you— needed you…

That had been a terrifying realization back when it had first occurred to him. He’d tried to push it down, push it down, push it down for as long as he could, smother any semblance of positive emotion that dared spark itself inside of him. Because he knew what would happen if he let it take kindling and catch flame. It would consume him. Body and mind and soul.

Some days he wondered if it already had, if the wildfire of your presence had already scorched him from the inside out like Dabi’s quirk was in the process of doing to his body every single day. Others, Tomura forced himself to douse his feelings for you in ice water, to take a step back and separate the effects of your quirk for which he so often sought you out for from you as a person.

It could all get so confusing, causing him to spiral into bouts of anger or anxiety and end up coming back to you just to calm it all down like withdrawal from a powerful drug.

You made this all so hard on him when you never turned him away. When you always greeted him with open arms no matter how dirty or broken a state he returned to you in. You’d hold him, or let him hold you, for as long as he needed until something or someone came around to remind him to pick up the heavy weight of his reality and keep pressing forward.

He’d tried to keep you as his own little secret for the first few months after you’d agreed to join him and the League, though knew eventually he’d have no choice but to introduce you to his Sensei, whether through the blinding brightness and crackling audio of a computer monitor in a dark room or, a less than ideal scenario, in person. Face to disfigured face.

The screen had sufficed, luckily for Tomura, and after convincing his ominous yet revered Sensei how much you did for him— how much you did for the League as a whole, which you knew was a stretch, as much as you wish his words were true— the older man had let you stay.

Though, even if AFO had disapproved, Tomura would’ve found a way to convince him. Because, like one of those who’d described your quirk like the lulled sweetness of a high, he was addicted. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without you and he hoped he’d never have to find out.

“I’ll meet you in our room in a minute,” you coyly hinted, taking a step back from him and shielding one of the plastic bags from his view. “There’s just one more thing I gotta do first.”

This time, Tomura didn’t try and argue. He still rolled his eyes, sure, but he was smiling while he did it. Telling you to hurry up before heading out of the kitchen and presumably to the aforementioned location, fighting the urge to scratch with every step further from you he took.

You didn’t want to keep him waiting either, so you hastily grabbed his gift from the bottom of the bag as well as the old newspaper and duct tape you’d found lying around the hideout.

As much as you wished you had some cool, shiny wrapping paper or at least a halfway decent gift bag to put the present in, you figured Tomura wouldn’t be one to care what the packaging looked like. If his impatience for getting the things he wanted was any indicator— like how quickly he got you undressed and underneath him on a night when you both needed to satisfy your more carnal cravings— he’d tear it to shreds and toss the paper to the floor to get at the prize that was inside.

So you only bothered to fold it up in the newspaper and secure the two ends with duct tape before heading off to his room, part of you tempted to tape the entire thing just to give him a challenge, though then figured he might decay it out of frustration, only to find him sitting in front of his gaming PC, having gone to farm for some weapon enhancement materials while he waited for you.

“That was fast,” he remarked as you strolled closer, the poorly wrapped gift held behind your back with one hand.

“Guess what it is first,” you said.

Tomura paused his game, swiveling in his chair to better face you, fingers laced before him as he wore a look of minor curiosity, actually playing along for once. “Uhhhh… Wait, don’t tell me—” It was rare for him to actually indulge in one of your “pointless little games” as he often called them. But the moment his expression dropped back to that usual, unamused look, you realized a second too late that now he was the one playing with you. “It’s a pony, isn’t it?”

Flashing him a disapproving glower you lightly scolded, “Tomura. Come on. That’s not a real guess.”

“Fine,” he said, turning back to his monitor and continuing to beat mobs, picking up whatever it was they dropped so his character’s sword could level up or whatever. “It’s that new dark fantasy MMORPG that came out a few months ago. Y’know, the one with the super cool graphics made by the same company that did that other game I really liked…” His back was still facing you, so he couldn’t see the frown that had crossed your face. He said, “How’s that for a guess?” right before you dropped the package into his lap. When he turned to face you next, you didn’t look pleased.

“You looked in the bag,” you accused, voice low and annoyance beginning to simmer. “Didn’t you?”

He picked up the bundle of newspaper and duct tape that had landed in his lap and carefully turned it over in his hands. “Wait… You mean…?” He shot you a skeptical glance, trying to read your expression before eagerly tearing into the package. When you didn’t budge, still giving him that suspicious glare with your arms crossed over your chest, he began to rip strips of the newspaper off, the first corner of the gift being exposed confirming that his guess had been right.

“Happy birthday, fun killer,” you remarked, though there was a notable softness etching its way back into your words, a small smile spreading across your lips as you caught the awestruck look painted on Tomura’s face as he held the game up to the light to better study the cover art on the sleeve.

In his rare moment of distraction and stupor, you wandered closer to sling your arms around his shoulders, half your body leaning over the back of his gaming chair as you nuzzled your cheek lightly against his, feeling the roughness of his skin but finding familiar comfort in it.

“You like it?” You finally asked, pulling Tomura from his daze.

“Yeah,” he replied, that crooked smile cracking across his face for a flicker of a second. “I just can’t believe you actually managed to get your hands on a copy. It’s been sold out everywhere for weeks since it came out.”

You squeezed him a little tighter, placing another peck to his cheek before saying, “Had to travel three prefectures over and scam a kid who thought he was gonna be able to resale it to me for triple the price, but it was worth it.”

“How long did it take to convince him to let you have it for free?” asked Tomura, a hint of cruel delight lacing into his question.

“Mmmm…” you hummed, recalling the exchange in your mind, “Maybe like, five minutes, tops. But what do you say? You wanna play it?” you prompted, as if the question even needed asking in the first place.

After Tomura gave an obvious, “Uh, yeah I wanna play it,” he reached forward to pop the disc into the computer underneath the desk that held his three screen monitor display. Meanwhile, you were about to go grab an extra chair from the bar so you could sit next to him.

“Wait,” he beckoned you back before you could open the door. You paused and looked over your shoulder at him with a hint of confusion. But then he was waving you over, giving one of those grins you’d come to learn were reserved only for you, and patted his lap as he pushed his chair back from his desk, “Just c’mere.”

You gladly settled into the space between his loosely crossed legs, his arms draping over your shoulders so that he could hold his controller in front of your chest, your own controller resting in your lap and at the ready as you both waited for the game to load.

“Try not to get too frustrated when I absolutely annihilate you at this, ok,” Tomura teased, tinkering with some of the settings before launching you both into the pixelated world.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, already starting to run ahead of him on your section of the split screen where some low level mobs had just spawned. “Just try and keep up.”

You two spent a little while exploring the world and collecting supplies before you tried your hand at battling each other. Much to your dismay, but not to your surprise, Tomura was indeed “absolutely annihilating you” when it came to 1v1 fights, even when you tried to fight dirty.

And, even with your quirk in uncontrollable, constant effect on him, Serenity did nothing to slow down the rate at which his fingers flew over the buttons on the controller, hitting combo after combo with only a couple hours to learn and familiarize himself with them. In fact, you began to think maybe Serenity was making him better at playing, like the calm was clearing his mind of all other distractions so he could focus solely on the task right in front of him.

But you’d never been able to beat him, no matter what type of game you were facing off in. Still though, as he claimed the final victory in the last round you two agreed to play together, there was still a part of you that was frustrated you hadn’t been able to win against him just once.

“Want another round?” he dared to ask, that cocky air of confidence snagging on the edge of his words.

“So you can beat my character into a bloody pulp again? Yeah. I’m gonna have to pass on that one.”

“I warned you,” he said, a slight lilt in his raspy reminder.

“If I hadn’t been sitting here with you the entire time,” you began as Tomura wrapped himself tighter around you, now peppering gentle kisses to your head and looping his arms around your ribs, hugging you closer to his chest like he liked to do, “then I would’ve accused you of using cheats, but—” You tilted your head back to rest in the crook of his shoulder, gazing into his eyes and getting lost in all that scarlet. “I’ll hand it to you. You’ve probably never had to use hacks in your life, have you?”

A quiet hum of amusement vibrated in Tomura’s chest and you felt it echo through your own body for a moment, his kisses finding your neck and making you melt into him a little further until you’d both abandoned your controllers and you’d changed your position to straddle his lap, facing him so you could kiss him properly now.

“‘Course not,” he stated in between kisses, his voice lowering to a whisper as his hands began to carefully navigate the familiar planes of your body, palms running over your soft curves and grazing over the areas he knew would drive you crazy later, once there were no clothes between you two and you were laying vulnerable and bare beneath him.

He swore Serenity was always strongest when you two were skin to skin, no barriers, no matter how thin, there to hinder the flow of all that tranquility. The first time you two had slept together, you’d been surprised how gentle Tomura had been, how careful the most deadly hands in the country had held you.

Tomura could get lost in those moments, mind clouded by the calm, any and all worries he’d ever had disappearing among the fog. He didn’t want to admit how hopelessly addicted he was to you, how he was afraid of the feeling that might come crashing back in if he spent too much time away.

Sometimes you wondered if he’d still like you even if you didn’t have this quirk, if somehow you two could’ve still ended up like this, if you would’ve lent him some quality of halcyon just by your presence alone, unaided by the tranquility that endlessly emanated from your being.

Before you could dwell on it too much though, Tomura was standing with you, guiding you to the bed, and pinning you to the mattress, both of your clothes beginning to shed like a skin no longer needed.

Tomura was muttering things against your neck and into your hair as he continued to kiss you, sucking a few bruises along your pulse and making you squirm, and at one point you could’ve sworn you’d heard the words “I love you” amidst all the incoherent mumbling.

But you must’ve imagined that, right? Because neither of you had been brave enough to say those words out loud to each other before, even if you’d heard them echoing inside your brain more and more frequently with every passing day.

Yeah, you must’ve just imagined it.

“Hm…?” You tried to prompt as you carded your fingers through Tomura’s silvery hair, catching a few loose knots and combing through them until he met your eyes again.

Through the dim dark of the room, the only light being that which glowed from the computer monitors, his birthday present on pause, the red of his eyes was bright and alluring, a dichotomy between danger and desire.

But something about seeing them tonight was reminding you of the first time you’d met that gaze. Back when you two were strangers crossing paths on the street like ships in the night, you unaware of all he’d ever done and him acutely cued into the sudden and startling shift in the energy around him, pulled into your orbit.

He looked at you like you were a rare treasure he’d been searching for all his life, astonished by the reality he’d long thought to be a myth, driven only by unexplainable faith and the payoff of the proof right in front of him.

“Wha’cha lookin’ at?” you lovingly asked, cradling his face in your palms. He seemed to snap out of the intense stare, melting back against your form and allowing himself to become drunk on the scent of you, on the warmth of your skin, being content just to hold you close if that’s all you’d give him, just like he had in the beginning of all this.

“Just you…” he breathed, his steady breath fanning over your neck. “Only you…”

***

“I want you to join the League,” he’d said, plain and simple and, as far as you were concerned, completely out of left field.

You’d almost choked on your current swig of coffee, quickly composing yourself before giving him a bemused look and asking, “What did you just say?”

You knew exactly which League he was referring to, but still, you weren’t convinced you’d understood him right.

You knew who he was by then, same as he knew you, at least by name. Because, while neither of you had ever exchanged that information directly, you both had a habit of doing some digging behind the scenes. He’d found you a lot faster, given his expertise on navigating the technological back alleys of information stored within systems like the quirk registry and other private digital catalogs.

You, however, had found out his true identity the hard way.

Since you’d grown accustomed to seeing him on a regular basis, you’d recognize those pale tufts of wavy hair anywhere— even on the shaky, blurred footage shown on the news where his face was covered by a grim, grey hand.

You had to give him credit though. For being the most wanted villain in all of Japan, he sure was bold to wander out in public as often as he did.

And at first, you’d felt the familiar stomach sinking weight of dread that came with the realization that you’d been having almost weekly cafe dates with a known murderer. The fact that you knew your generous patron to be Tomura Shigaraki had made those first few days— well, ok, those first few weeks— after uncovering the information incredibly stressful for you.

You found it hard to take your eyes off his hands— the hands that could turn you to dust before you’d probably even have the chance to let out a scream if he wanted to. All it would take was all five fingers to close around you and you’d be gone. Yet, at the same time, all he’d done was show you the utmost courtesy and consideration. Though, perhaps you had your quirk to thank for that.

He kept his distance, only came closer when you explicitly allowed it, and never tried to pressure you for more than you’d give him. He’d offered to walk you home a couple of times when your sessions had been pushed to after dark, and when you refused, he still said he hoped you made it back safely. He kept buying your drinks or your lunches or whatever other extra expenses the locations you two were meeting at involved.

And, as much as you hated to admit it, part of you was falling for him, no matter how evil or dangerous the media painted him to be. And sometimes it felt like maybe he was falling for you too, but once you’d find yourself alone again, and usually sixty five-thousand yen richer, you were reminded that all of this was just an exchange.

If it wasn’t for your quirk, he’d have no reason to want anything to do with you.

“I said I want you to—”

“No, I heard you,” you cut in, holding up a hand to further signal his silence. You held his gaze, trying to search his eyes for any hidden agenda, but felt a further sense of unease when it seemed he was being genuine.

You sighed to yourself, raking your fingers back through your hair as you tried to catch a single thought that was racing through your mind. Once you finally managed to snag one, you regrouped and said, “Look. This thing—” You quickly pointed a finger from him to you and back a few times. “Whatever you wanna call what we have going on… It’s—” You made a short, sort of choking sound, scoffing at the words you hadn’t yet chosen, finding yourself speechless for a moment.

This time, as you looked back to him, trying to remain… What? Composed? Professional? Guarded? You laced your fingers together atop the table and simply stated, “My quirk can do this to people. It can…” Again, you searched for the right words, your eyes darting back and forth from where your hands were clasped in front of you to his which were starting to fidget with the strings of his hoodie. “It can make people start to think things or feel things that, once out of Serenity’s range for long enough, they realize aren’t actually true.”

You paused for a moment, giving him space to say something, to give any indication that maybe he wanted to reconsider. To confirm that, the moment he was more than five feet away from you, he’d perhaps crack one of those crooked smirks he liked to wear and admit, “Y’know what, you’re right. Forget I even said that,” and things between you two could carry on as they normally did.

But Tomura didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood from his seat, turned his back, and walked out of the little hole in the wall noodle place you two had discovered not that long ago— your new favorite late night meeting spot.

You sat there, even more at a loss for words and no less confused, and began to replay everything you’d just said over and over in your head, trying to figure out where you’d offended him so greatly.

But then, only a minute later, your phone began to ring, lighting up with the contact name 65,000. A little joke to yourself, a nickname you’d called him by in your head before learning his true identity.

“I want you to join the League,” Tomura’s familiar rasp crackled through the phone. You turned and looked out the window, seeing him standing on the other side of the street, staring you down through the fingerprint-smudged glass of the restaurant’s front window. “You think I haven’t had plenty of time to think about this while I was away from you?”

You felt like your world was spinning, slow and swaying like the dizziness from a headrush. You opened your mouth to speak, closed it, swallowed, then opened it again to reply with a single syllable.

“Why?”

“Why?” Tomura repeated, like the answer was obvious. “Because I—” Now it was his turn to consider his next words carefully, his voice tapering off into a quiet squeak at the end with what remained of his original sentence quickly dying on his tongue. He leaned against the brick wall of the building behind him, still staring at you from across the street, hood pulled over his pale, fluffy hair. “Because I think you’d be good for all of us. Your quirk, it’s… unconventional. Especially when taken into consideration as to how it’d fit into our party but…” He shrugged, and you thought you could see him crack a small smile, though weren’t completely sure from that far away. “I mean, c’mon. If anything, we could use your convenience store robbing skills.”

You could tell he was trying to use humor to put you at ease, but even so, you could feel your heart beating in your throat and your hands start to go a little numb as you prepared to utter your next statement to him.

“But…” you began, a slight tremble to your voice. “You guys kill people, don’t you?”

You could rob convenience stores to survive, sure. But killing someone…

You didn’t think you were capable of something like that.

As Tomura began to fumble for an excuse or explanation as to why certain drastic measures were often necessary in his position, you continued to sit at the tiny table tucked into the corner, absolutely beside yourself.

“Tomura—” It was the first time you’d called him by his name and it tasted bitter in your mouth. “You tried to kill kids.”

“Yeah. And so what if I did?” Even with this much distance, you could tell his eyes were alight with an all-knowing breed of mischief, almost like he was proud of this fact and not horrendously ashamed like most people would be at just the mere thought.

“I’m being serious!” you blurted out, then remembered you were the only one in a very tiny establishment, catching a few odd looks from the cooks behind the counter. You lowered your voice, though with no less sense of scolding, and continued, “I not going to— I can’t—”

“Relax…” he’d spoken over your ramblings of denial, taking a few tries before you finally seemed willing to hear him out. “You’re not gonna have to kill anybody. Your job will be strictly post-mission remedying. Maybe some occasional reconnaissance if absolutely necessary. You have my word.”

“Yeah, and you think I’m just going to take you at your word?”

Looking back, agreeing to willingly join what many had deemed a domestic terrorist organization hadn’t been a line you ever thought you’d cross. And you had never had a habit of letting people talk you into doing things that every fiber of your being was urging you to stay away from.

But there was just something about the way he’d sold it to you, how he’d made you feel important, made you feel wanted, that seeped its way into your better judgment and convinced you that yeah, maybe having a place and a people to belong to and help was what you’d been looking for for a long time. So you let him take you to the hideout, were introduced to the other members of the League, and when push came to shove, you decided you’d stay.

It didn’t take long for the others to warm up to you— a perk that no doubt had more to do with your quirk than you as a person, as you felt was normally the case— and after a few months, you felt like one of the fucked up family.

You’d come to see sides of all of them that they’d probably never shown anyone else, at least, not within the group. You’d held them late at night and let them drift off to sleep in your arms, sat with them for hours after a battle to ease the pain of their injuries, and gave them comfort when tensions were high.

The first time you shared a bed with Tomura, everyone else was out. He’d sent them scouting or scavenging or something so you two could have some time alone. It was the first time in months that you two had gotten some time alone, and it sort of made you miss the weekly cafe dates from the beginning of your strange, transactional relationship.

And that was the first time you thought maybe he liked you for more than just your quirk. The way he’d handled you was more careful and gentle than you’d ever seen him, and it made you think maybe things had always been meant to turn out this way.

The world outside that room could be decaying to ruins and neither of you would’ve noticed or cared when you were skin to skin. All you could focus on or think about was the feel of each other’s bodies, the way you moved in tandem, pulling moans and whines from each other with every drag of your visiting hips, the taste of his mouth on yours, the way he looked with all that pale hair framing his face as the hooked moon cast a soft, silvery glow through the tiny window.

You weren’t ready to admit it back then, but you knew that was the defining moment in securing the fact that you weren’t going to leave. No matter how things ended up or what turns the future took, you’d be in the League for the long haul, with him, both of you swaddled in a natural kind of serenity.

I think I love you, you’d thought as you felt his breathing slow, both of you curled together and dozing off once the high had come down and the room returned to its previous silence. I think I love you and I don’t know what to do.

You were ok keeping that to yourself. Better to not get hurt that way. But the more time that passed, the more you began to wonder if you’d be able to hold in such a heavy realization forever.

You never thought he’d say it back. Didn’t think he knew how. But you’d wait.

You’d wait until he was ready. Until he was sure he could truly mean it.

***

The room felt smaller now than it had a year ago. It was almost like everything beyond the old, blanket strewn mattress pushed into the corner on the floor didn’t exist.

With the computer monitors now faded dark and the absence of the usual muffled hum and clattering of the other League members moving throughout the rickety building or getting rowdy in the bar, the place was as still and silent as a graveyard.

That was, until the only two ghosts left lingering stirred to resume the haunt.

“Tomura…” you sighed, voice cracking with a whine of pleasure being plucked within you like a taught guitar string. He was already nestled between your thighs, slowly pushing his way deeper into the tight, wet, warmth of you. He had a habit of taking his time when it came to this, unlike the way his patience usually dwindled down to nothing like a fire eating away at a piece of paper, temper red hot and quick to flare whenever someone kept him waiting.

But, when it came to you, his patience burned more like a candle, slowly melting, savoring the experience, steady on the wick until the flame disintegrated it down to delicate ash and he’d have no choice but to wait for the wax to resolidify and start all over again.

You two didn’t talk much during this act. All your usual banter and sarcastic, teasing little comments were put on hold just until you were both stated and recovering from the come down. But still, that didn’t mean you didn’t catch him muttering things under his breath the further he carved out a home in you, all the little strained feels so good’s and god, you’re perfect’s that he whispered into the crook of your neck between leaving a trail of tender kisses there.

He’d work you up slowly, try to outlast until neither of you could take it anymore, and savor the way your core pulsed around him as you both tried to catch your breath and merge back with reality after letting everything go.

He’d let you run your fingertips over his back, sending little shivers across his spine, and lightly scratch at the back of his neck as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent like a sweet, calming drug.

Sometimes you’d hum to him, recalling simple, melancholy tunes you’d heard in your childhood or slow songs that had simply gotten stuck in your head. He’d usually drift off for a few minutes, only coming to with a deep inhale when he felt you inevitably stir beneath him. Then it was his turn to take care of you, to clean you up and witness as you were lulled by his touch, perhaps the only person who knew what his hands were capable of who’d ever let him touch them.

As you two lay side by side now, staring into each other’s eyes, admiring the color of each other’s gaze, you smiled at him and brushed a few misplaced strands of hair from his forehead, brushing your fingers down the line of his cheek, following to his jaw before slowly pulling your hand back and closing your eyes, feeling like it was only a matter of minutes until you were asleep for good that night.

But that’s when you heard it again.

“I love you,” he stated, as if it were a fact as simple as saying the sky was blue, indisputable. You opened your eyes, blinked at him, brows slightly knit together and mouth tugged down in a crooked frown as if about to deliver bad news to someone you cared about.

“Tomura…” you sighed, a slight, sympathetic lilt to your words. Though, whether it was sympathy for you or sympathy for him, you weren’t quite sure. “You’re only saying that because—”

Before the excuse had time to fully be spoken into existence, Tomura suddenly sat up and forced himself to stand from the mattress with a quiet groan. You watched as he walked from one end of the room to the other, now out of the range of your quirk. He looked you in the eyes as he said it again, the shadows of an almost pleading expression crossing his face, like he was begging you to believe him.

“I love you,” he repeated a third time, and by then, you were starting to think maybe he did. You almost felt like you might tear up, because when was the last time someone told you that and really meant it? When was the last time anyone had told Tomura? Had he ever said those words to someone else before?

“C’mere…” You beckoned him back into your embrace, and once he was in your arms again you began lazily running your fingers through his hair, gently tugging through a few more knots and feeling his breathing synchronize with yours. “I love you, too…” you muttered into the crown of his head before placing a chaste kiss there.

He looked up at you, eyes wide and full of some kind of innocent desperation, as if he were a little kid seeking approval and couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten it. Again, the notion broke your heart, knowing he hadn’t been loved properly in his childhood, but then the relief of realizing that you could maybe make up for some of it by loving him now filled you.

“Oh, and, by the way…” you smiled, a new kind of brightness shining in your tone. “Happy birthday.”

Tomura cracked a grin then— a real one, genuinely happy— and while he didn’t say it as he lay his head back down on your chest, finding healing in the steady rhythm of your heart beat, he knew that this would be a birthday he would remember forever.

***

(Aaaaaahhhh!! Guys!! I’ve been wanting to write something new for Tomura for so long and am really happy with how this one turned out :)

Honestly, this was originally meant to just be short and sweet and the to the point since I wanted to do something for his birthday but, like usual, I got too self indulgent and it sort of spiraled out of control lol.

Anyway, happy birthday to our favorite gamer boy, who deserves all the love and good things <3

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you next time!)

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