Skin Hunger (Chapter 3) - A Shigaraki X F!Reader Fic
Skin Hunger (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“Do you ever think about leaving?”
That’s not a question you hear often. From anyone. “Do I what?”
“You heard me.”
You look up from the mess you’re wiping down on the pool deck of one of the suites in Asylum’s bathhouse wing. Shigaraki is watching you from one of the benches, finishing off the remains of a bottle of champagne the guests left behind. He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer. You have one, but he won’t like it. “I don’t like thinking about things that won’t happen.”
“Why can’t it happen?” Shigaraki asks. He made his usual half-hearted offer to help when he followed you in here, but he’s allergic to almost every cleaning supply you use, and he’s so bad at it anyway that it’s faster for you to do it yourself. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like out there?”
“I know what it’s like out there,” you say, miffed. “I went to school out there. I’ve probably spent more time out there than you have.”
A few full moons back, the question of how you both got here came up. Shigaraki was about as disconcerted to learn that you were born in Asylum as you were to learn that his master first got ahold of him when he was five years old. “Then you know what you’re missing,” Shigaraki says. He takes a sip of champagne, then grimaces, probably because it went flat hours ago. “Do you ever think about leaving?”
“Everybody thinks about it.”
“What about you?”
You focus on your work, giving yourself time to think of a real answer. The bloodstain you’re scrubbing out of the tiles has probably been here longer than you’ve been alive, and a lot longer than you’ve known Shigaraki Tomura. After seven months, you’re getting better at ducking his questions. You’re getting worse at deciding which ones to duck in the first place.
Shigaraki’s master has come to Asylum to feed on every one of the last seven full moons, and each time, he’s brought Shigaraki with him. Shigaraki’s master comes to feed on the handpicked victims Overhaul and Chrono have found for him, while Shigaraki’s supposed to feed on whoever he can get his fangs into, but you’ve never seen him drink blood while he’s here. He’s hungry, usually. He usually drinks at least a little alcohol. And when he’s not eating, drinking, or conspicuously not drinking blood, he’s following you around.
You’ve stopped asking why he does it, around the same time as he stopped making excuses for why he’s supposed to. The two of you have settled awkwardly into the truth, which seems to be that if you’re both here, you’d rather spend time together than separately. It’s embarrassing for you to admit that the only new friend you’ve made here in the two years since you left the human world behind is one of the guests. It’s probably about as embarrassing for you as it would be for Shigaraki to admit that the person he’s come the closest to feeding from here is you, and he didn’t even draw blood.
“You know, I really thought we were past this,” Shigaraki says. You look up at him. “It’s not a trick question. Do you think about getting out of here or not?”
“You asked if I thought about leaving, and I said I don’t like to think about things that won’t happen. That implies that I have thought about it, and come to the conclusion that it’s not possible.” You go back to scrubbing. “What are you really asking?”
“Why you think you can’t leave.”
“I can’t blend in anymore,” you say. You raise one hand and tap your ear. Shigaraki’s eyes track the motion. “Most half-humans can pass as human at least some of the time, but I can’t. If it’s not my ears that catch someone’s attention, it’s my eyes. If it’s not my eyes, it’s my skin. There are enough things about me now that are just – off. And the human world might not be like it was in the freak-show days, but it’s still not a good place for people like me.”
“If I’m following your logic, I shouldn’t leave my lair, either. Since I can’t hide being a half-vampire.”
“You can, though,” you say. “I didn’t guess until you smiled.”
For Shigaraki, the price of walking freely in the human world would be never smiling where anyone could see it. That doesn’t seem right. Based on Shigaraki’s expression, your answers aren’t answers he likes. “So if you’re not leaving, what’s the plan? Cleaning up after guests forever? That is how long you live, right? Forever?”
“In theory.”
“You’re going to spend forever doing this.” Shigaraki’s voice is dark with scorn. “No way.”
“Why do you care if I stay here forever?” you ask, stung.
“Because it’s a shitty way to spend forever.”
“And being a vampire isn’t?”
You say it without thinking, and you regret it the instant it comes out of your mouth. Shigaraki looks like you’ve slapped him. His next words come out through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I’ve been putting it off?”
“You can put it off?” you say blankly. “How?”
Shigaraki takes another swig of champagne. You don’t know how much is left in the bottle, but if he’s planning to finish it, you’ve got a problem on your hands. “I have to kill someone,” he says. “To become a full vampire. Pick a victim, drain them completely from life to death, and that’s it. Immortality, special powers –”
Derision drips from his words. “All for the low, low price of never seeing the sun again and dying if I go too long without drinking blood. Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?”
You know Overhaul has surveillance in each guest area. You don’t know if Shigaraki’s master is watching, or if Overhaul would tell him. “Shigaraki –”
“Except if I don’t become a full vampire,” Shigaraki continues, talking over you, “then I’m mortal. Weak. I’m useless to my master, and he’s already getting impatient.”
He drains the rest of the champagne bottle, then lowers it. It slips from his hand and shatters on the floor, and he startles, looking down at the shards of glass and then up at you, the slightest guilt on his face. “Sorry.”
You give up on the stain and hurry over, shooing him back from the broken glass. He tries to help you anyway, and you warn him off again, more firmly this time. “Stay back. I’ll do it.”
Shigaraki stays back from the glass, but stays close to you. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says. “He wants me to do it. He says he’s patient, but he’s getting tired of waiting. I was supposed to do it here.”
“At Asylum?” You stop what you’re doing to look at him. “When?”
“The first time we were here,” Shigaraki says, and something lurches in your chest. “Your boss said I could have anyone in a maid’s uniform –”
And Chrono made sure you were in the bar, not wearing one. You didn’t know Overhaul had said that. Shigaraki is still talking. “And instead of killing a human servant I got drunk in the bar with you. We keep coming back, and I keep not doing it –”
“Because you’re hanging out with me,” you say. “Shigaraki, if this is getting you in trouble –”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“Hmm?”
“If I thought about leaving,” Shigaraki says. You keep looking at him, but he’s not looking at you – and he’s scratching again. “You’re supposed to ask if I’ve thought about leaving, so I can tell you –”
You catch the glint of a scrying mirror out of the corner of your eye and slap your hand over Shigaraki’s mouth. “Stop talking.”
Shigaraki’s mouth moves against your palm, setting off a weird buzz. “How come you’re always trying to shut me up?’
“Because I might not be the only one listening.” You leave your hand there for longer than you should. You know it’s longer than you should, because you wait long enough for the hair on your arms to stand up. “Be careful what you say in here. The walls have eyes and ears – and mouths, if you’re in the wrong room.”
“How come you haven’t taken me to see that?”
“I only get sent to clean up there if Chrono’s mad at me.”
Chrono’s been mad at you a lot recently. Everyone you work with thinks that’s why you’re avoiding him, but it isn’t – he’s mad because you’re avoiding him, and you’re avoiding him because you don’t want it to come down to sleeping with him or keeping your job. Like you told Shigaraki, you don’t have anywhere else to go. You know you can’t avoid him forever, just like you can’t stay here forever. But you’re immortal. You’ve got time to put things off.
Shigaraki doesn’t. Shigaraki’s mortal, still – and right now he’s inordinately trashed on champagne, again. You finish cleaning up the glass, decide that the pool deck’s as clean as it’s going to get, and turn to Shigaraki. “Come on. We need to find somewhere for you to sober up.”
“Can’t you use a glamour on me?”
“It’ll stick better if you sober up first,” you say. “It only holds as long as you don’t do anything to break it.”
He’s not making any effort to get off the floor. You hold out your hands and he takes them, swaying on his feet once he’s upright, blinking like his vision’s gone blurry. That’s – not good. You have a spot in mind to stash him while he dries out, but you might have a hard time getting him there. “Can you walk?”
“What if I can’t? Will you carry me?”
“We’ll definitely get caught.” You palm your master rune and glance around at the bathhouse. Asylum’s guest rooms don’t usually come with shortcuts, but you’ve gotten lucky sometimes with bathhouse rooms. “There might be another way out of here. Hang on.”
No passageways on the floor, in the walls, or on the ceiling. You go so far as to check underneath the bench Shigaraki was sprawled out on. There’s nothing there, but as you’re straightening up, you catch a glimpse of something at the bottom of the bath, flickering through the water. You straighten up, cross to the bath, and wade down the steps into the water. Shigaraki watches. “What are you doing?”
You don’t answer until you’ve ducked beneath the surface and confirmed your hunch. “We can sneak out through here. There’s a passage down there and I’m pretty sure I can make it open out somewhere else.”
Shigaraki doesn’t look happy. You can’t tell if that’s nausea or the idea of going in the water. “Wait, can half-vampires cross running water?”
“This isn’t running water.” Shigaraki levers himself upright, only to slump back again. “I can’t swim.”
“You won’t have to swim,” you promise. You beckon Shigaraki forward. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here when the next guests come through.”
Shigaraki’s hesitant on his way down the steps and into the bath. He’s tall enough to stand if he keeps his chin tipped upwards, but you’re treading water, and your uniform is heavy when it’s wet. You dive beneath the surface and tap your master rune against the tiles at the bottom of the bath, and the passageway opens, sucking you and Shigaraki down into it without warning.
It’s a short trip, and the two of you splash down in a chamber lit not by gas lanterns, but by bioluminescent lichen and mushrooms growing on the walls. The pool you’ve landed in is warm, and shallow enough that both of you can stand. You head for the edge of the pool, and so does Shigaraki. “Where are we?”
“In the foundations, I think.” You find a rock to sit on, and Shigaraki sits down next to you on it. “When Overhaul built this place, he had to build the features that would fuel things like the hot springs. After he cast the spells to keep them from fluctuating, he got rid of most of the foundations – but I guess not all of them. I had no idea this was here until today.”
“I thought you knew everything about this place.”
“Not quite,” you say. “More than Overhaul, though. I’ll probably know all its secrets by the time I’ve been here forever.”
You don’t mean it to come out the way it sounds – bitter, frustrated, angry. Even though you and Shigaraki are as close as you can get to being friends given who you are, he’s still a guest, and you’re still a maid. Silence falls between the two of you, and you’re searching for a way to walk it back when Shigaraki speaks up again. “What if you didn’t have to?”
“What?”
“What if you didn’t have to stay here forever?” Shigaraki’s red eyes, strangely illuminated in the light of the glowing plants, are intent on your face. “What if you could leave? Would you?”
“I can’t leave, so it doesn’t matter.” You were hoping not to come back to this argument. “Can you drop it?”
“If you could,” Shigaraki presses. “If you could, would you leave?”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere,” Shigaraki says, like everything you said while the two of you were still in the bathhouse suite never happened – “With me.”
You stare at him. For a second you’re stunned into silence, but then you remember. “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah. I was too chicken to say it sober.” Shigaraki’s face is flushing, deeper than alcohol alone could cause. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life like this. You can come with me and do something that matters.”
“Like what?” You brought him down here to sober up, but now he seems drunker than before. “Shigaraki, stop it. This isn’t how it works.”
“Says who?” Shigaraki’s hands grasp your shoulders, and you freeze. “Your boss? My master? They don’t get to make the rules. We do.”
You’ve had seven full moons to observe Shigaraki, and you’ve never seen him get this intense about anything. He’s practically vibrating, and while you can’t call the light in his eyes madness, it’s too close for comfort. “The world doesn’t care about us. So we should change it. Don’t you think?”
If you knew what to say, you’d say it. You look helplessly at him, and he leans closer, lowers his voice. “There are more of us than there are of them,” he says. Us? He must mean half-breeds, and he’s probably right, but why is he talking about it like it means something? “They can’t stop us all.”
He’s close enough that you can smell the champagne on his breath, the dry scent of his skin and the ever-so-slightly softer scent of whatever he uses to wash his hair. Not blood. You’ve never smelled blood on him. “So? What do you think?”
“Ask me when you’re sober,” you say. “Then I’ll know you mean it.”
You’re hoping he forgets. You think there’s a decent chance he will, and then you’ll be off the hook, because you don’t want to think about what he’s asking any more than you have to. Sure, he’s right. Sure, every inhuman species except the werewolves treats their half-human children like trash. And sure, there are more half-humans than there are true inhumans, but the number of true humans in the world dwarfs you all. It would be nice if some things could change. But you don’t think that one half-vampire and one half-fey can do anything about it.
You can’t do anything about it. But maybe you could leave.
You shove the thought away, hard. Your heart is racing. Shigaraki smiles at you, unworried, almost carefree. “If I mean it? I do.” One of the hands on your shoulder shifts, tracing the edge where the human skin of your shoulder meets the fey skin of your arm through your uniform. “But I can wait.”
His touch is ridiculously light, but it draws all your attention. You remember him asking about the other patches of fey skin on your body, about whether he could see them, and your mind floods with the thought of how that same light touch would feel around the edges of the other seams. You order yourself to pull it together, but not before your face flushes, and not before Shigaraki notices. He looks up from your shoulder. “What?”
Before you can answer, or more likely, dodge the question, there’s a tiny splash, followed by a sharp whistle through the air. You and Shigaraki lurch apart, just in time to miss one of Overhaul’s messages. It’s for you. You peel it open with a shakier hand than usual. Bring the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura to Room 237 at once.
“What is it?” Shigaraki asks. “Are you in trouble?”
Someone is. You don’t think it’s you. “You’re being summoned,” you say. “Let’s go.”
The message said “at once”, but you detour to change into a dry uniform before you bring Shigaraki to Room 237. If he’s soaked, that’s one thing, but it can’t look as though you were involved at the same time. Room 237 is in use, but the door is ever so slightly ajar, and when you raise one hand to knock, it swings the rest of the way open. Chrono’s standing there. Past him, you can see an unconscious figure sprawled on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. And past even that, in the far corners of the room, is something – else.
“Come in,” Chrono invites, and Shigaraki steps forward. You couldn’t glamour away his wet clothes, but you at least concealed the fact that he’s drunk. That’s all you can do. You turn to go, and Chrono catches your arm. “You, too. Come inside.”
You hit the brakes, or try to. Chrono’s surprised you. He pulls you in, shutting the door and throwing the room into deeper shadow. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck are rising. You don’t want to be here. You want to run. You need to run, but Chrono won’t let go of your arm, no matter how much you pull – and now the thing in the corner is speaking, its voice deep and cold. “Tomura,” it says, and Shigaraki’s spine goes rigid. “It seems my meal was too much for me. Be so kind as to finish it.”
You feel like you’re going to be sick. Chrono tightens his grip on your arm to the point of pain. “Make Overhaul heal her,” Shigaraki says. “Then you can finish another time.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do. Too much of her soul already belongs to me,” Shigaraki’s master says. The feeling of sickness wells up stronger than before. “I know you’ve been abstaining, and I certainly admire your commitment to taste, but you are unwell. Human food can only do so much. You need blood to sustain you, and this – I’m certain you’ll quite enjoy it.”
An enormous hand emerges from the shadows. One sharp finger presses against the unconscious woman’s neck and blood spurts out. Shigaraki’s body jerks. You see his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Hurry now,” his master says. “This was quite expensive. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Shigaraki steps forward. His knees hit the side of the bed, and he crawls onto it, his body obscuring the victim’s almost completely. You don’t see his teeth sink into her neck, but you know it’s happened by the way their bodies seize as one, his falling forward against her, her head falling back as her back arches to meet him without ever regaining consciousness. You’ve seen your share of unspeakable things at Asylum, and the only thought in your mind as you watch the victim writhe beneath Shigaraki in her death throes should be horror. It should be horror, but it isn’t. It’s – jealousy.
Not for what’s happening to her. You’d wish that on no one, not even your worst enemy, but jealousy for everything else; for the way he’s pressed against her, the way they seem to move in unison, the hideous intimacy of it all. Death and sex go hand in hand so often in this place, and yet they’ve never been so closely intertwined. The victim’s hand jerks weakly upwards in a last grasp for help, and Shigaraki catches it, holds it down, without pulling away from her throat. The sick, shameful, guilt-ridden fury that rises up within you gives you the strength to pull your arm free of Chrono’s grip at last.
He reaches for you, but you’re faster than he is, and you know Asylum well enough to evade him, slipping into a secret passage just behind the door. From there it’s sidestep after sidestep, taking you high into the upper reaches of the brothel, as far away from Room 237 as possible. No one can chase you here. Even if they knew where you were, you could get away long before they reached you. You could stay in Asylum forever, if you wanted, and no one would ever lay eyes on you again.
But no matter how far you run, some part of you will still be trapped in Room 237, still watching Shigaraki drain the last few drops of blood from a victim who was already gone, still seething with jealousy. No matter how you try to shake the thought off, it clings to you. Shigaraki will drink from thousands over the course of his life as a vampire. Scenes like the one you saw tonight will play out thousands of times, that twisted intimacy unfolding over and over again. More intimacy of any kind than you’ll ever have with him.
You hadn’t realized you wanted it so badly. You hadn’t realized you wanted it at all, but now you do – and now it’s too late.
You shirk your duties until the full moon dips below Asylum’s false horizon, and once you’re certain Shigaraki and his master are gone, you come back to face whatever punishment Overhaul sees fit to levy. But Overhaul doesn’t seem to know. He commends you flatly for keeping Shigaraki out of any expensive varieties of trouble and goes back to tallying the night’s earnings, leaving Chrono responsible for dealing with you.
“Instructive, wasn’t that?” Chrono says to you, almost smugly. “The sight of a vampire feeding often provokes intense emotions. Perhaps we should sell tickets.”
You clench your jaw, but the question escapes anyway. “Why did you make me watch?”
“I know you’ve grown fond of the master vampire’s brat,” Chrono says. “Experience has given me certain advantages to share with you, such as the knowledge that nothing will ever matter more to a vampire than its pursuit of blood. Did you think Shigaraki Tomura cared for you? He will always care for his meals more.”
Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing you could offer that would compare to that. “Does the knowledge wound you?” Chrono inquires. “You need not answer. I can see it.”
“Then why ask?” Your voice is dull.
“If it wounds you deeply, I apologize,” Chrono says. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to comfort you.”
You hear what he’s actually offering, and some part of you that still has the capacity for anger and betrayal is furious with him. Some part of you feels more hatred for him than for anyone in your entire life – for destroying the only friendship you had in order to corner you into giving in to him. That piece of you rebels. The rest of you is too numb and hurt to care. Maybe this will fix you, comfort you, distract you. You’ll feel something different, if nothing else.
Just as he knew he’d struck true before, Chrono knows he’s won. He holds out his hand to you, and you take it, giving in your fate at last.
More Posts from Flamme-shigaraki-spithoe and Others
Worthy of the Welcome
Moon and Sun x GN reader (Angst, but there's also some fluff in here near the end)
Hey, there's going to be a lot of talk about abuse. I didn't get graphic with the description of wounds, and I left the abuser vague as well, but it's still a pretty heavy subject so this is the warning for that. Also, Moon is there for way more than Sun is but there might be a pt 2 if I can claw my way out of writer's block. Also, yes, I'm absolutely using fanfiction as therapy- who's gonna stop me?
Moon worked diligently to clean the wounds out of (Y/n)'s reach, silence falling over the dimly lit room. The animatronic's eyes had an eerie red glow, a feature he only used in the dark. He'd insisted on keeping this room almost entirely dark, the napping area soft and protected from any other prying eyes. It was Moon's way of being protective through the glaring frustration of the situation at hand.
"You really need to at least tell Sun." Moon grumbled a complaint and (sighed, the rubbing of their fresh bandages irritating the newly disinfected cuts and gashes beneath.
"You know Sun, he'll freak out and either really push to have something done about it or worry himself to death." (Y/n) cringed as Moon tightened the bandages. He was careful not to restrict their breathing, keeping it loose enough not to put pressure on their lungs, but definitely tying the fabric securely.
"Maybe you do need to do something about it." Moon argued, voice now at less of a hushed tone and more of his normal volume.
"You know I can't-" (Y/n) tried to give the usual excuse, but he just wasn't having it today.
"No. Enough of that bullshit." The shifting sound of metal sounded in the otherwise hollow room as Moon puffed up, body now rigid. The anger he'd been suppressing bubbled to the surface. "You're an adult now, you can legally just walk the fuck out! You don't have to go home- fuck! You don't even have to leave the Pizza Plex! We've got like three people already living here, it's hardly a secret." He ranted.
"Moon, I-" (Y/n) tried to argue again but, with another bout of justified rage, he continued to argue with them over it.
"The person that is supposed to have your back and care for you and always protect you if at all possible hurts you. Often." (Y/n) couldn't see it from the fact he was behind them, but his face softened from anger into pain. "And the last few times they hurt you somewhere you can't reach just so you'd have to ask for help… I really think it's time for you to go." He said, trying not to just plead for them to live here.
(Y/n) knew he was right. They'd known it was time to go sinse the abuse started and yet over the years they'd joined right in with the one who'd treated them so badly. They tricked themself into thinking the way they were told to. It conflicted them, stuck between one truth and another, both ones they believed in.
Shoulders going slack, their eyes averted.
"I don't… I can't stay here." (Y/n)'s voice was hardly a whisper, maybe even lost if not for the emptiness of the large, matted room. "Everyone here has been very kind to me, and especially you and Sun, but, I… I already owe you so much more than I'll ever be able to give back." They hugged themself, resigned to the hand they were delt in life and feeling undeserving of anything more.
"I'm not worth the effort as is, Moon." They left off on that sad note, more silence coming in to fill the space where there was once a voice.
Without any more words, Moon stood, circled to the front of them and crouched to look them in the eyes, the most serious expression he could muster on as he fought an urge to just yank them up into his arms, march 'home' with them and have Sun get their bags packed while he beat the shit out of their abuser.
"(Y/n)." He said their name, but they wouldn't meet his eyes. Was it guilt or shame or fear- they weren't sure. But it was tangible enough to make the air thick. They thought for a moment maybe he'd tightened the bandages just slightly too much, but quickly dismissed it. It would be hard for anyone to breathe when getting your soul stared at by one of the last people you'd ever want to see all the flaws and impurities that marked it's surface.
"Look at me. I need you to look at me and hear everything that I'm going to say because I am going to get this through to you. One way or another, however many times it takes." He was determined, stubbornly only staring harder as they got the courage to level their head and meet his gaze. He made sure it was locked before he let himself speak.
"The sheer fact you don't know how to be loved is enough to prove you're the one being wronged here. Don't think about whether you deserve the kindness, just know that you deserve the love that comes with it." He felt his face heat up. "Or, at least, the fact we do enjoy taking care of you. Its almost more for us sometimes." He wasn't exactly lying at his last comment, as the reason he'd been keeping their secret was so that he was sure they'd keep coming back for the help. He didn't like imagining them quitting their job and never being able to see them again.
(Y/n) got teary-eyed. No one deserved this, who were they kidding? They'd never done anything so horrible that it justified the pain they had to be in every day. They made up their mind to agree to stay. Just as they parted their lips to speak the lights flicked on.
"I'm back! Got out of parts and service early so I went and got (Y/n) some snacks! Could ya believe they can do a routine check in half an hou-" Sunny suddenly locked up as his eyes landed on the bandaged, heavily scarred form of his close human friend. He'd never seen them with their shirt off before, but disregarded the scars in favor of the many clearly new marks on their form.
"(Y/N)!!! Oh no! OH NO!! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!!!" He shrieked, dropping the Doritos and cookies as he darted for where they were sitting on the soft blue napping mat.
Kneeling down, he cupped their face, looking them over for any more injuries with the frantic, overreacting, motherly fretting he was known for when a child was even minorly scraped or bruised from the equipment.
"Ah, yeah, my dumb ass dropped myself down the staircase on the way in today. Moony got me all patched up, though, so I should be alright." They lied on impulse. Moon put a hand on their shoulder, a stern look on his face. Their will to keep lying started to crumble. If they were going to live here, then Sun would need to know why. (Y/n) would need him to know why. To be rid of it all.
"I'm… sorry." They stopped Sun before he could come back with a short lecture on being careful, "That wasn't true. Force of habit." They rubbed their arm and he suddenly looked much more concerned than before.
"Have you done something wrong? I promise I'd never be mad over you getting hurt, even if it was your fault. I only want to help." He reached down to hold their hand, smiling warmly, as if to say they were welcome to ask for the help. It was the last straw, the thing that dislocated the last of the distrust they'd built towards any offer of safety over the years.
They choked before the truth got the chance to make an appearance, tears not picking up speed as much as just immediately starting to cascade like waterfalls down their face.
Pushing their torso forward, it didn't matter that they felt like they looked weak or that they were starting to sob pretty loudly in what was made to be a tranquil and relaxing space. It didn't matter that there were dishes in the sink and dirty laundry in the hamper at 'home', or that they'd have to send someone to obtain the items that held sentimental value from their room at some point. It didn't matter that the person that had been hurting them was going to be looking for them when they realized (Y/n) wasn't coming back.
All that mattered was that there were four arms wound around them and a promise that none of those things would ever need to be a concern of theirs ever again.
"I'll tell him for you later, Nightlight." Moon offered, taking yet more of the pressure off.
"Yes, I'll wait for the story." Sun started to rub circles in their back. "Just cry as much as you need to, alright? The rest can wait."
(Y/n) held on tighter, smiling through the heavy feeling in their tired body and the crying they weren't even trying to stifle this time, with the relief that it was all ready to be put behind them, and they were ready to be put back together.
guys i dont think its a bit anymore
doodles i did in art stream a few days ago for later fic stuff
also: dream lamb/narinder
Give Your Heart a Break - Chapter 2 Tomura Shigaraki x reader series
You can find chapter one here
Notes: So I want to clarify that in this fic, a major theme about Tomura's story is that he suffers from a lot of untreated mental illness. I'm representing him as someone who's undiagnosed Bipolar, but also experiences symptoms that boarder schizophrenia, such as the voices he hears and he'll eventually have a psychotic episode at some point in this story. I know this feeds the "Bipolar and psychotic people are evil" stereotype, but I have these mental illnesses and see Shigaraki as someone who could very much have untreated Bipolar disorder (type 1 specifically), regardless. Most anime characters aren't written to be bipolar lol but I have a list of reasons why I think he has the potential to be. Maybe I'll make a post about it someday.
Summary: Tomura is so goshdarn determined to find his lil gamestop crush and thanks to him conveniently seeing her debit card he casually stalks her on the internet
Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact, cliffhanger, mildly dark content, internet stalking, creepy Tomura, Tomura and y/n only talk over the internet in this chapter, i wrote Tomura's thoughts but it's not from his direct POV. They are highlighted in blue, like chapter 1 Tomura hears voices and sometimes they can be nasty - they are highlighted in red, Shigaraki is kind of soft in this fic, very scott pilgrim kind of humor, edgy and derogatory humor but it's satirical, Tomura has his English Dub's voice (pre Paranormal Liberation Front), not proofread yet
Notes About Reader:
everything from chapter 1 applies
she/her pronouns
relatively active on social media but makes content private
reader is a WEIRDO
I made the reader's username mine lol
As said, she's very based off of me
reader experiences unspecified mental illness and has been to a psych ward in her past
she laughs very easily
"*your full legal name*"
Tomura considered the possibility that you may be using someone else's card or that you didn't go by your legal name but he was sure it was a decent place to start. His heart was racing so hard to find out who you are. He wasn't sure what struck a chord in him when he saw you. He supposed it was cuz you're pretty, but he really didn't know anything about you other than you're spooky, like anime, and like his hair.
He immediately started searching for your name on his phone. It wasn't hard to find your Facebook, though your privacy settings didn't let him see much other than profile pictures. You seemed somewhat outgoing from what he could tell.
There was a directory about you online, and he guessed it was you based on your age and location (he saw your location on FB lol). Now he knew your address..
the internet is so nice to him sometimes :)
It took him a little bit of digging but he found your other socials outside of Facebook. All private, though. Fuuuck.
Fuck it, follow.
Tomura never showed his face on his socials and never ever ever put his name. She wouldn't know it was him.
"But now she has to approve it :("
*bugsinmybrain accepted your follow request*
:)))))
Tomura swore that he felt as if he had unlocked a fucking treasure chest. You were so very flashy, that's for sure. A lot of pictures of you, decorated with some cute stickers that were edited in, or surrounded by anime dudes.
"Tenko"
"Fuck off."
From what he could tell, you were a geek. Very nerdy and interested in things, though that wasn't a bother to Tomura. He was a fan of a lot of shit. You were also very pretty. He then stumbled on some posts you'd made about heroes. How you thought their system was corrupted and that they'd neglect people and dismiss those who they thought were worth sacrificing. Mmm, you're speaking his language.
You didn't appear to be any kind of villain, you couldn't be so outgoing on the internet if you were, but you were certainly feisty.
He wanted to message you. He knew it would be weird and he didn't want to creep you out, but god he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know more about you. To be honest, he really wanted you to give him your undivided feminine attention. When you spoke with him at GameStop he felt warm. Love at first sight? Possibly. Is he that much of a fool?
His social anxiety made him almost want to watch you outside your window before messaging you online anonymously. rrr.
"whatever."
him: hey, do you remember the blue haired guy from GameStop?
you didn't answer for two hours.
Tomura tried to not care if you responded or not but he was boiling hot and itching anxiously, wondering if you had actively ignored him. But you didn't unfollow or block him, he checked many times.
her: omg yea
!!!
him: is your name (y/n)? that's what your card said. sorry thats creepy af but i kinda wanted to talk to you so I looked you up.
He wasn't even attempting to not be a stalker at this point. What else was he supposed to say? There's no way to cover the fact that he has a crush on you or something.
her: yea that's me. i noticed you peaked at my name so it's ok lol. what's your name?
"fuck"
he wasn't supposed to say anything like that online. He's a piece of shit, yea, but a part of Tomura didn't want to lie.
"Tenko"
That's a name he heard often. For the last couple of years he began experiencing frequent auditory hallucinations. Hearing "Tenko" was one of them. Sometimes they'd tell him to stop or scream at him or strangely enough, they'd be calm and nurturing to him. It drove him crazy sometimes.
Whatever.
him: Tenko
her: why did you want to talk to me?
him: that's an awkward question
her: why?
him: i guess it's not. you look cool and said shit about hating heroes. is that a good enough reason?
her: LMAO
i suppose
him: do you play any video games? I saw you go to the anime section...
"She'll know that I was creeping on her"
*deletes that last sentence*
him: do you play video games? you came into gamestop after all lol
her: i play but i'm not very good at any of them
"of course she isn't"
him: what games do you play?
her: league of legends
him: omg are you kidding me?
her: no
him: do you wanna play with me? like. right now?
her: sure??
score.
You were trash at league. But somehow it was charming seeing you try your best, though your efforts were very frugal. Normally seeing someone so bad in his game would make Tomura pissed but he gave you a pass. At the moment, he was more worried about getting to know you than the game itself. So he tried all he could to get you to talk, he loved your voice.
"I'm going to assume you're very new to this?"
"Yea."
"How new?"
"I've been playing for maybe 3 months."
"That long and you're still shit?"
"I know I suck," you say defensively. As if you could hear the things in his head.
"You kind of do, not going to lie."
It wasn't long after that you got essentially gangbanged by three enemy players with no hits back.
"FUCK"
The loud cussing in his headphones made Tomura jump, but he couldn't help but start to chuckle violently.
"Feisty bitch ain't she?"
"She wants to suck your cock."
"Shut up..." Tomura growled under his breath.
"Did you just tell me to shut up??" You ask, though chuckling while you did.
"What? No, no. Sometimes I just have really bad thoughts that come out of nowhere. I have to like.."
"Tell them to be quiet?"
"yup."
"I've done that. Like actually, though. I'll just start thinking of the most wacked out thing, and it comes out of no where. Sometimes I knock on my head to get rid of them, hah."
I guess a spooky looking gal like you being mentally ill isn't a surprise to him. Your ability to relate to his situation was still comforting, though. Especially because he almost expected you to get uncomfortable when he told you about having "bad thoughts." Some girls may think a freaky looking dude like him having "bad thoughts" meant that he was some homicidal villain.
oh wait
"Really? I've had it happen to me all my life, but for the last two years I've like...heard voices, I guess? Sometimes the thoughts aren't even thoughts, they just happen. And I'll hear them, in voices that aren't mine. Also forget all of that, I'm normal and you're very bad at league."
The giggle that erupted from you shot an infestation of butterflies inside his chest. You seemed to think he was very funny, which is something that frankly turned him on. Throughout your call he was able to make you snicker from saying the dumbest shit. He prayed you weren't just faking it.
"It's ok. You'd be surprised how common that is. Doesn't make it any easier though, I'll say that," you reply, hoping to ease his nerves. You could tell even over voice call that while he spoke very easily about his hallucinations, he had a level of shame for them.
"No. It doesn't. Who made you a psychiatrist, anyways?"
"My six stays at the psych ward maybe," you retort.
"sexy."
"Excuse me, Tenko?"
Oh right. That's his name right now. Fuck, he wanted to see you in person. He felt like he'd be able to be more of an open book that way. He'd still need a story though, fake name or not. You probably thought you were just talking to some geeky gamer boy with blue hair and possible schizophrenia, but little did you know, you were talking to a facilitator of multiple acts of mid-level terrorism. Hey, but if it was all in the name of "Fuck Heroes" maybe you'd still laugh at his jokes.
"Sorry that wasn't very feminism of me was it?"
"No, it wasn't" you said as you wheezed in laughter.
"You like my edgelord jokes, don't you?"
You kept laughing, now somehow he had pulled a couple of snorts out of you too.
"fat pig."
"Want to take a trip to 2016? I bet Leafy would love to make fun of autistic 12 year old's with you."
He swore that you were probably crying from how hard you were laughing. He wished he could see you on camera right now, but hearing you blow out his ear drums with your annoying yet adorable little laugh was good enough for now.
"Am I going to have to come resuscitate you?" Tomura cackles, now feeling himself starting to laugh.
"Your voice is cute."
"Liar."
"I'm not!"
"Someone once told me I sound like I'm a prison bitch cuz of how hoarse my throat is."
"wow."
"Done with the jokes, got it."
"I know, right?"
"I just think it's cute, you're very expressive."
*this is Tomura right, now by the way*
"Does that mean that uh..you think I'm cute?" he pesters with the widest smile on his face, though you couldn't see.
*que jeopardy music*
Goodness, you certainly had a girlish charm with the way your mellow voice would start chirping with laughter. He didn't think flirting should've been this easy, but you were very impressionable.
"It it ok to say yes?" you asked sheepishly over call.
"Ehehehe~!!!" Tomura squealed, mocking your giggles.
"Shut up!"
"Am I going to have to come and rescue you? You sound like you're running out of air," he asked almost genuinely, as he held back a cough.
"Do it, pussy, you won't."
"Oh really?"
"Uh-huh."
"Would you be mad at me if I told you I know where you live?"
"Excuse me?"
"Not my fault. Blame yourself for being an on-the-grid person. The internet is dangerous, didn't you know?"
"Are we officially stalker-stalkee now?" you joked.
"Yea but my hair is blue and my voice is cute so it's ok if I stalk you, right?"
"Oh my fucking god."
"So, can I come see you?"
"Huh?"
"In person. I could be there in like half an hour. You live near me."
"Tenko, it's 10pm."
"Would you get in trouble? Do you live with parents or something?"
"Yea."
"I could pick you up and we could walk back to my place."
Now, dear readers, would you accept such an offer from a complete stranger at almost midnight, absolutely alone with him? After he has admitted to lowkey stalking you? You shouldn't!
However, we, the reader, are ignorant to common sense when we receive the slightest crumb of positive (?) male attention.
"Sure."
"teeheehee!!" Tomura teases. "Keep your eyes pealed, then. Thirty minutes, okay?"
"omg i guess."
"omg ok, what flavor of Monster do you drink?"
A new life for Tomura part2
Yay sunny
Round 3 Wave 1
Anxious
(Back again with the soft Tomura, been anxious and overthinking a lot lately so this is a bit of a comfort fic for me! Hope it can comfort you too!~)
Tomura Shigaraki x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Platonic
Summary: You’re new to the League of Villains. You have already proven yourself in combat, showing off your skills with flying colors. Yet it’s easy to see how anxious you are around people when your mind isn’t focused on fighting.
CW/TW: people being judging assholes, degrading comments towards reader (none by the league, just some strangers)
(Y’all are beautiful and sweet, try not to listen to the haters! <3)
~~~~~~
You hadn’t been in the League long, just barely over two weeks and it taken longer than you’d like to admit to get used to everyone’s names. Oftentimes you hung out with Toga or Twice, seeing as they accepted you and made you feel more at ease. Mr. Compress was nice too, one of the firsts to notice your anxiety and help you with it.
You didn’t see much of Spinner, but from what interactions you did have, he was respectful of your anxiety too.
Dabi and especially Tomura, however, scared you to hell and back. Not only did they look like they’d kill you with just one glance, (and honestly they very well could), but they had an air about them. They seemed so high up in the League’s rankings that you were too nervous to even try to talk to them outside missions or training.
It was a Friday night, no big plans were coming up so the league was out and about doing their own things. You were in the training room at base, doing small things with your quirk to test your capabilities.
The sound of the door opening tore your attention away, your head turning to see Tomura in the open doorway.
“Need me for something?” You asked as politely as you could in his presence, the deadpan stare alone made you want to shiver. Tomura was hard to read.
“Come with me. We’re getting snacks.”
You blinked, not expecting the words but nodded nonetheless. You straightened up your clothes as you walked over, taking the jacket he held out to you.
“Wear that. It’ll hide your face.” He spoke, and as he turned, you though you almost imagined him muttering “Plus it’s cold out.”
Either way, you put on the jacket and flipped the hood over your head, following Tomura out of base and onto the yellow-lit streets of the city.
A small part of you found it fun, walking around in the city at night. You never did it often before you found yourself in the League. Plus it was much quieter at night, something you enjoyed. Your gaze drifted to the road, your mind picking out the colors of cars that passed by. Your ears picked up on passing conversations of cars and apartments above, no words to be heard, but the sound of voices was unmistakable.
Your gaze drifted to your feet, Tomura’s moving next to and slightly in front of yours, watching as your shoes made minuscule splashes in the puddles from yesterdays rain shower. An alley cat caught your attention next, head turning to watch the dark-furred feline jump up after a moth fluttering by a door light.
More alleyways passed by, some holding overturned, half full trashcans, others holding trashcans so full the owners had to place the trash bags on the ground next to them. Occasionally, you’d spot movement further in the alleyways, most likely a drunkard or a thug trying to hide away from the road’s street lights.
If Tomura was talking to you, you did not pay him any notice, your mind far too immersed in the city’s ambience to pay attention to much else.
At one point, you thought you saw a flicker of Dabi’s blue flames, way back in a darker alley, to which you pointedly turned your head the other direction. You’d only heard of what Dabi does to people, you didn’t wish to see it in action just yet.
“We’re here.”
You jumped out of your musings at Tomura’s voice, which in the moment sounded almost too loud, your head turning to see a run down general store. Either your wandering mind had kept a listening ear out for Tomura’s voice, or he had purposely raised his voice to pull you from such thoughts.
Following him inside, you glanced around the building. The floors definitely needed cleaned, the shelves were mostly stocked (aside from one entirely empty shelf). The only cashier there looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as he stared up at the TV playing some random late night cop show, his expression making him seem either half dead or half high, you couldn’t quite place it.
But damn, what a mood.
“Get whatever snack you want, I’ll pay.”
A part of you wanted to protest, you never liked having others pay for you, but you didn’t bring any money, and you figured it was best to take Tomura’s generosity when he gave it.
So you nodded and wandered off from his side, perusing the shelves. As you were moving from the sour candies, which you noticed were out of date, and onto the sweeter ones, you glanced up at the sound of the door opening, two teens wandering in.
Paying them no more attention, you reached down for a bag of your favorite chocolates, turning the bag over to check the expiration date.
“Are they really considering chocolate with that figure?” A hushed voice sounded at the end of the aisle.
You tensed, pretending to look busy with reading the other candy labels. The teens thought they were being subtle with their whispers, but in a rundown store like this late at night, their voices were more than quiet.
“Dunno, doubt they care if they’re in a place like this at night though.”
You shook as their quiet laughs reached your ears. God why? Your figure always upset you, some days you looked too big, others you looked too thin.
However, just before your thoughts could spiral more, you noticed their laughter abruptly stop. You lifted your head, just a slight glance up, and immediately dropped your gaze again.
Tomura was standing at the opposite end of your aisle from them, giving them the nastiest glare you’d ever seen on a person’s face. And without the hand on Tomura’s face? Not a look you’d want directed at you.
“Find what you want, (Y/n)?” He spoke up, making sure the two teens heard him as he stepped up to your side, giving you a gentle look that oddly enough, put you at ease.
“Y-Yeah.” You piped up quietly, earning a nod from Tomura.
“Alright, let’s go.” He replied, the toe of his shoe tapping against your ankle to get you moving towards the cash register.
Thankfully, he’d placed himself between you and the two teens, and you wondered if they’d pissed themselves in addition to how pale they’d gone.
You fiddled with a small phone charm up by the register as Tomura paid the cashier, but set it down as he handed the bag to you.
This time, he had you lead your duo out of the store, following close behind you but not without another glare thrown over his shoulder.
A part of you wondered why he hadn’t just gone ahead and used his quirk on them. You’d seen him do so with people that annoyed him, but as he brushed the back of his hand against your still quivering arm, you guessed it was to not upset your anxiety any further.
“You alright?” He asked after a stretch of time, walking beside you, you noticed, as opposed to slightly in front of you like earlier.
“Yeah.” You breathed, “Still a bit shaken, but I’m alright.”
He nodded, one eye glancing your way. “Don’t give those insignificant rats any satisfaction, alright? You’re fine just the way you are.”
You smiled up at him, finding yourself finally calm for once by his side. “Thank you, Tomura.”
“Don’t mention it.” He spoke, looking back in front of him as one hand lifted from his pocket. Clasped in fingers, ring and pinkie fingers extended, was the phone charm you were looking at, and you know he definitely didn’t pay for it.
You let out a small giggle as you took it from him, too caught up in the fact he stole the charm for you to see the way he smiled at your giddy expression.
(So right around where you start walking with Tomura is where I had some damn good city detailing, and then my phone decided to fucking close Tumblr on me making me lose my progress and I had gotten far enough into the fic that I couldn’t remember what exactly was written so I couldn’t rewrite it word for word and I’m so mad about it. Why can’t Tumblr do an autosave thing every minute or so??? Eh, it is what it is I guess, at least this time around I added a bit more details)
Thinking about an AU where Y/N is a cryptid hunter and finds what they believe is just an animatronic helper (abandon, creepy jester meant for kids, but hey, they're into weird stuff so this is awesome!) but little do they know is that a very supernatural and ambiguous, demonic creature is inhabiting the endoskeleton with two forms for the day and night, and well, the day creature is very taken with the cryptid hunter but the night demon is less than thrilled about following around a weak human. Cryptid hunter is unaware of the situation and believes the animatronic to be highly advanced, and not at all capable of scaring away ghouls and goblins with a look alone as he always stays behind their back, protective, and much more terrifying than anything they've ever hunted.
bachata baby | (s)
apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!
pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader
words: 8.7k
prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"
warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship
You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.
“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.
“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”
“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”
Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”
“Nejire!”
She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio.
A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.
“Good morning, everyone!”
Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”
Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.
“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”
It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker.
“Does anyone not have a partner?”
You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?
Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.
“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”
He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.
Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”
“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”
It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”
While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?
“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.
“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”
“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.
“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”
You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.
Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?
Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others.
“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”
He snickers, “do you want me to?”
Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.
“Just don’t be weird!”
“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.
Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.
Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.
“So… Do you like to dance?”
“Fuck no.”
His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”
“You go to parties?”
“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”
It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.
“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”
“They’re fun!”
Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.
“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”
He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.
“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.
“Oh. Well, your number?”
You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.
“There, do you need anything else?”
What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?
“...I guess not. Bye.”
He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…
“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!”
Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”
“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”
“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”
Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.
“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”
“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”
“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”
Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.
“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”
Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.
Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.
“We needa dance!”
Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.
“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”
Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”
You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.
“Wha?”
“Hey.”
He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”
You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”
You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”
Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.
“You look drunk.”
“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.
The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”
“Let go of me!”
Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?
Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.
“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”
You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.
“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”
This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.
“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”
“Then let me take you home.”
“Since when are you nice?!”
It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.
“You don’t even care about me.”
“... You’re my dance partner.”
He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.
You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.
“Who’s room is…?”
Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”
He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.
“Are you gonna lie?”
“Am I going to what?”
He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.
It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?
The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours.
“Why don’t you like me?”
“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.
“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”
For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.
“...I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”
“I don’t!”
The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.
“I just… I want to like you.”
“Like me?”
You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.
“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”
He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.
“Okay.”
Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.
“I meant it.”
“What?”
“That you’re cute.”
One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.
“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”
Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.
It’s a beautiful dream.
-
Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see.
“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”
The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”
“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.
It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”
“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”
You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.
“Fine, let’s just get going already.”
Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Did I say something weird last night?”
It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.
So, be nice! Okay?
“Shigaraki?”
“You said I was cute.”
He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.
Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...
Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.
“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”
“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”
“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”
He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal.
“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”
“But you didn’t.”
You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.
“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”
“Mkay.”
It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.
“You’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks.
You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat.
“You owe me.”
“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.
How cute.
“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.
Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.
“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”
He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails.
“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.
“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for walking me home.”
Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...
And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.
The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.
He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”
“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”
“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”
Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”
He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.
“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”
“Wow, evil.”
You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.
“You should show me your Spotify account!”
“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”
“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”
He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”
“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”
“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”
Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.
The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.
It’s making you want to kiss him.
“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.
Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”
You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.
“Do I?”
“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.
It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.
He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first.
“...”
It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.
“It’s called shoegaze.”
“Shoegaze?”
“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.
Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.
“Sh-aah.”
The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.
You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.
“We need to stop.”
“But can’t we–”
“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”
You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”
“Stop.”
He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?
“Please?”
Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…
“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”
He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”
You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.
Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.
“It’s cute.”
“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.
Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.
“Shigaraki!”
You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible.
It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.
He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”
It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.
Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”
Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.
He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”
Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”
“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”
“No! No, don’t!”
His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.
“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!
Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.
“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”
The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.
Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”
He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.
“Shigaraki!”
His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself.
“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.
“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”
“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”
“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”
You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”
Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.
“Do you want me to…?”
He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.”
“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.
Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing! Just tired.”
“...Right.”
He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.
“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”
The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”
You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.
“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”
Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”
“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.
“Wait, where was this again?”
“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”
“The practice room?!.”
She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”
“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”
Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.
You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.
Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes.
Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.
[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?
Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.
[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine
Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.
[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.
He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too.
You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.
“Hey.”
He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.
“Hey.”
The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials.
“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”
He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”
You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.
“Stop acting weird.”
“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”
“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”
“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”
He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.
“...I know, and I’m sorry.”
He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”
You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.
She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you.
Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.
“Are you two ready?”
You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.
The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist.
You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.
He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.
“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”
The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.
“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.
You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”
“I have to go, excuse me.”
He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.
“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”
You do.
It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.
And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.
It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.
Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.
You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.
[Shigaraki]: hey
It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.
[Her]: Hey
[Shigaraki]: wyd
[Her]: I’m not doing this
[Shigaraki]: come over
[Her]: No
[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you
You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.
[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold
[Shigaraki]: omw
Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.
“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.
“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.
The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.
“Is your roommate home?”
He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.
“So–”
You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall.
It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.
“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”
“You wanna see more?”
Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts.
“Can I?”
“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.
“No bra?”
“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”
“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.
His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.
“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.
“Shigaraki!”
He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall.
“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”
The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.
His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”
Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”
You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.
“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”
“I just need you to touch me…!”
He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”
You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.
Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”
He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.
“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”
“I wan, I want…!”
He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.
“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.
It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”
You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”
“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.
“I’m what?”
He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers.
“Nothing!”
“Cat got your tongue?”
You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans.
“Wanna do doggy?”
“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him.
The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.
“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”
“I know! Why don’t you–”
He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”
“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”
It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”
You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.
It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.
He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.
It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”
You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.
“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”
One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.
It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.
“You gonna get off me any time soon?”
He offers a steady deep breath before replying.
“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”
“Really? You’re still on that?”
Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.
“Go on a date with me.”
“You can’t just change the subject like that!”
“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”
Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”
Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.
The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.
[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink
You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.
The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.
yes ! I have small boobs i swear i wanted to hear ass of things, thanks anonyme for asking UnU now i know thank to you
boobs, ass or thighs? honest question i swear
Tch. None of those are All Might so I don’t care! *crosses arms and pouts*
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Ass.
Yay team pokemon fire✨✨✨ma fav is Blaziken idk how to say his started in english
Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 15) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic
You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever.
But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14
Chapter 15
There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Right now the thing that’s wrong with your house isn’t the ghost who haunts it, but the fact that said ghost is on day five of an extended sulk. With every day closer to your departure, Tomura’s gotten mopier, and no matter how many times you explain to him that you’ll only be gone for two days, it doesn’t seem to stick.
It’s Friday morning, and you’re leaving directly after work, which means you have to say goodbye to Tomura this morning. He’s not making it easy. “Someone else can go. Aizawa can go,” he complains. “I don’t see why you have to.”
“I’m the one who started looking into this. And Aizawa has kids to look after.” You finish packing your bag and zip it up. “Are you sure you’re okay to watch Phantom? Spinner said he would –”
“I know to feed her and play with her and let her out. I’m way better at taking care of our dog than Spinner.” Tomura is scowling worse than before, and you feel slightly guilty. You like hearing Tomura say that Phantom is both of yours, but that’s not a good enough reason to wind him up. “Why do you have to stay away that long?”
“It’s going to take me six hours to get there. I won’t be there until midnight tonight. I’ll take all of Saturday and some of the next day going over the documents, and I’ll be back late on Sunday.” You pick up your bag and start down the stairs. “I don’t like being away, either. I like it here.”
“Then don’t leave.”
“I have to.” You set your bag down by the front door, then crouch down to say goodbye to Phantom. You haven’t left her alone for this long in a while, and you’re going to miss her. If it wasn’t for Tomura, there’s no way you’d take this trip.
Tomura didn’t follow you down the stairs, and you hear his voice echo through a house that already feels a little too empty. “I won’t have anybody to talk to.”
You thought about that, too. You thought about it and decided that not talking to Tomura for two days wasn’t something you were prepared to tolerate. “Can you come down here? I’ve got something for you.”
Tomura’s footsteps are slow, almost reluctant, as he makes his way down the stairs. “What is it?” he asks. You don’t answer – you’re too busy searching through your hall closet for a bag you stashed there months ago. “If you want me to kiss you before you leave, just say that. Don’t act weird and –”
He stops talking when he sees the bag you’re holding out. “It’s a present,” you say. “Sort of. Open it.”
Tomura’s not very good at opening presents. He shreds the bag, followed by the box, and a charger cable and a pair of headphones fall out and clatter to the floor. He avoids dropping the main event, if nothing else – the smartphone remains in the palm of his hand, and he stares at it suspiciously. “This is for me?”
“We can set it up really quick right now.” If you were smart, you’d have done this last night, but last night you were busy – not with sex, which would have at least been fun, but with trying to snap Tomura out of his over-the-top bad mood. You beckon him closer and he hovers over your shoulder as you start the process. “See, this is your profile. What do you want to set your name as?”
“My name.” Tomura watches as you set it. “Now what?”
You adjust his phone so it’ll always be on battery saver, hook it up to the WiFi so he won’t burn through all your data, and mute all his alert sounds. “Now we’re going to get you some contacts. People you can call or text if you need to.”
You probably spent a lot more time than necessary thinking about whose numbers you should give to Tomura. You ruled out Dabi’s and Hizashi’s instantly – the last thing you want to do is give Tomura the ability to start fights with either of them whenever he wants. Giving Tomura Keigo’s number is risky, but you’re pretty sure Dabi doesn’t know Keigo’s passcode. Tomura gets Aizawa’s number, and Spinner’s, and Jin and Jin’s mom. Jin’s mom, after pleading from Himiko and significant hesitation, agreed to let you add Himiko’s number to Tomura’s phone. You add the other ghosts, too, even though Tomura doesn’t really need a phone to talk to any of them. Last of all, you add Mr. Yagi.
Tomura doesn’t like that. “I don’t want him on my phone. Get rid of him.”
“You don’t ever have to call him,” you say. “It’s just in case.”
“In case what?”
You don’t really know. Tomura makes an irritated noise. “I want Izuku’s number.”
“You can’t have Izuku’s number. Even I don’t have it.” You wouldn’t want it, honestly. Giving Izuku unlimited opportunities to text you or Tomura feels like a stunningly bad idea. “Okay, that’s everybody. Only text them if it’s important, not to start fights. I don’t want to have to fix the fence again.”
“I know,” Tomura says, annoyed. He studies his phone, then looks up at you. “Where are you? Are you in here?”
“I’ve been texting you all the contacts.” You tap your number. “This one is me. You can name me something if you want.”
You show him how to edit the contact, then watch with a little too much interest as he selects a name. He hesitates for a long time, then looks at you. “What am I in your phone?”
“Um –” You added him as a contact already. You hold out the phone for him to examine, and he studies it like he’s reading a textbook. “It’s just your name. Tomura. See? I thought about adding the ghost emoji, but that would have been silly. I can add it if you want.”
Tomura shakes his head, then sets your phone aside and types your name into his as your contact. Which is fine. Except then he adds a display name – My Human. “Hey,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I used your name.”
He smirks. Part of you wants to change his display name to something like “my asshole ghost” to return fire, but before you can say anything, Keigo honks his car horn and hollers from outside. “Hey, if we’re going, we need to go now!”
“We’re going!” you shout back. You pick up your bag and your work backpack and race out to his car. You’re about to get in when you realize you haven’t said goodbye to Tomura yet. And that you’re missing your phone. “Shit –”
“I have your stupid phone.” Tomura’s on the other side of the fence. You reach for it, but he holds it just out of range. “I want a kiss first.”
“I was going to kiss you anyway,” you say. You lean across the property line, grasp his shoulder to pull him closer, and kiss him goodbye. You don’t stop until Keigo honks the horn again.
You’ve been in relationships before, but none of your exes ever insisted on a goodbye kiss when you had to leave for more than a day, let alone a goodbye kiss in full view of the entire neighborhood. You’re a little giddy on the drive to work, and Keigo, to his credit, doesn’t rib you too much about it. “He knows you’re not going off to war, right?”
“He knows.” You slouch down in the passenger seat. “He’s been moping all week. Did Touya do that?”
“When I was gone for too long, Touya broke out of the house,” Keigo says. Your jaw drops. “He and a bunch of other ghosts haunted this old-style family compound, and each of them was confined to a specific area. He broke out of his and into somebody else’s. You can guess how that went. So that ghost broke out of their assigned haunt, and then –”
You remember what Keigo said about ghost fights. “How many ghosts were there, total?”
“Six.” Keigo winces. “I moved pretty fast after that.”
Dabi sounds like he was a lot to deal with even back when he was Touya. A terrible thought occurs to you. “You don’t think Tomura would –”
“You told him where you were going,” Keigo points out. “And you got him a phone so he can talk to you. When it was me I just dipped for a day or two. I had no idea Touya was going to take it like that.”
“So that was kind of early on for you guys?”
“I guess.” Keigo sighs. You’re at a stoplight, and he hits his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Anyway, that one was on me. If he’d been a normal roommate I would have told him where I was going. So I think you’re probably fine. But we’ll let you know if anything weird starts happening.”
You’re hoping it won’t. You change the subject. “Thanks for giving me a ride. Parking in the station lot for two days was going to be expensive.”
“No problem. I was headed this way anyway,” Keigo says. “It’s better that you’re taking the train than driving. Less expensive.”
“It’s harder to track, too,” you say. “I don’t think anybody’s watching, but – still. Better safe than sorry.”
“Definitely,” Keigo agrees. He merges onto the highway and floors it to a speed he swears the cops don’t pull people over for. “Nobody wants a repeat of last time.”
You’re hoping to avoid it. That’s what this trip is about. When you shared the idea with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa, they both approved, although they both suggested that they should go instead of you. You held your ground. Even fifteen years after his embodiment, Mr. Yagi has a reputation among ghosts, and Aizawa’s carrying around Hizashi’s marks with no conjurer-forged bracelets to conceal them. Besides, you’re the one who found the asylum, who found Shigaraki Yoichi. Since there’s basically nothing else you can do to help, you want to see this through.
But that doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to the trip. In fact, your dread of it increases throughout the day, until you’re dragging your feet along with your suitcase as you walk to the train. Some part of you knows the dread is irrational, but it’s hard to shake, and it’s got nothing at all to do with conjurers, asylums, or ghosts. The city nearest to the asylum is the one your parents moved to, after you went to college and they sold the house you grew up in. And you and your parents have an agreement to check in whenever you’re in the same city as they are. When you texted them to tell them you’d be there for the weekend, they told you to cancel your hotel reservation and invited you to stay with them.
It’s been over two years since you last saw them. Last time it was awkward, and it was awkward the time before that, too. Your parents’ ambitions for you included a college degree and financial independence, and once you hit those milestones, it was clear at least to you that they have no idea what to make of you. But turning down their offer of a place to stay would have made things worse, and besides, hotel rooms are expensive. Saving money is worth an awkward weekend at your parents’ new home. You’ve never been there before.
You doze on and off on the train, waking up at every stop and checking your phone. Tomura hasn’t texted you, but then again, why would he? He existed in the house alone long before you were even born. Maybe he’s figuring out that he likes the peace and quiet, too.
The thought doesn’t sit well with you, and you’re crabby for the rest of the ride, although you do your best to shake it off once you arrive. The meeting with your parents will be difficult enough without you being irritated at the ghost in your house at the same time. It’s just past eleven-thirty as you make the short walk to your parents’ house from the station, your stomach growling the entire way. You’ll have to order in from somewhere once you’re settled for the night.
Their house is in a small new development, multiple homes clustered around a large central courtyard. You step through the gate and make your way across it to your parents’ front door. You check your phone one last time, ordering yourself not to be disappointed when you see that Tomura hasn’t reached out. Then you raise one hand and press the doorbell.
The door swings open almost immediately, and your father smiles at you in a way that gives you pause. He reaches out and lifts your suitcase out of your hand, then pulls you into the house and into a hug shortly afterward. For lack of anything better to do, you hug him back.
He’s smaller than you remember. More frail, and there’s more grey in his hair. How old are your parents now? Pushing seventy – they had you late, and you’ve always had the impression that you were sort of an accident. “It’s been too long,” your father says to you. He waits while you take off your shoes, then beckons you further down the hall. “Come along. We held back dinner so we could eat together.”
That doesn’t sound right. You rarely ate with both parents at once when you were a kid; family mealtimes were no one’s priority, and you ate with whichever parent was in the house at dinnertime, or you ate alone. “Why?”
Your father gives you an odd look. “It’s been too long,” he says again, as if the distance is all your fault, as if they couldn’t have reached out just as easily. “And it seems you’ll be very busy this weekend. This might be the only time we can catch up.”
“I have a lot to do,” you admit. Your father sets your suitcase down just inside the door of a room and continues down the hall. You can smell food cooking. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but when you go to help her, she waves you off, under instructions to wash your hands and get settled. “I’m making your favorite,” she tells you, and smiles. But then you see the smile waver. “Is it still your favorite?”
“I make it all the time,” you say. “It never tastes quite like yours.”
Tomura’s observed you working on the recipe more than once, and he always makes fun of you for changing it each time. No matter what you change, you can’t make it taste right, but maybe – “If you won’t let me help, can I stay and watch?”
“Of course,” your mother says. “It’s been too long.”
You wish they’d both stop saying that. If they wanted you to talk to them more now, they should have talked to you when you were a kid. Hizashi’s words pop into your head, like they do every so often: Mommy and Daddy didn’t love you enough. Maybe they didn’t. Or maybe they just didn’t know what to do with a kid once they had one.
Your phone makes the sad chiming sound that tells you it’s running low on battery, and you dig up your charger and plug it in, leaving it balanced on the corner of the kitchen counter as you watch your mom cook. Watching her, it’s easy to see where you went wrong in the recipe, or where you went wrong by following the recipe – there are spices your mom uses that are nowhere to be found on the ingredient list. You didn’t watch her cook very often as a kid. Maybe you should have asked if you could help.
The three of you sit down to dinner, and it’s beyond weird. The family dinners you remember were full of silence, but it’s been over two years since you last saw your parents, which means there’s a lot to talk about. You’re not sure how to talk about your life now, so you ask your parents about theirs, and hear that your dad’s retired but your mom is working part-time teaching English at a local middle school. They like their neighbors a lot. In fact, they want you to meet their neighbors tomorrow night. Apparently the neighbors have been asking about you.
“We told them a little, but you’re so busy that we haven’t talked in a while,” your mom says. Now you get why they invited you to stay here. Not knowing what your only child is up to looks pretty bad. “How have things been for you? Are you still working in the public defenders’ office?”
“What about law school?” Your dad takes a sip of his drink. Sometime in the last three years, your parents got sort of into fancy wine. “Are you still planning to go back?”
“Yeah. Money’s still an issue. I had a hard time saving with how high my rent was.” You try your own wine, but you don’t know enough about wine to know if it’s any good. “I bought a house, though. So I guess that’s new.”
It’s quiet for a bit. When you look up from your plate, you find your parents staring at you with their jaws dropped. “You bought a house?” your mother repeats. “You can’t afford law school. How can you afford a house?”
“I didn’t have enough for law school. I had enough for a downpayment,” you say. “My mortgage payments are cheaper than my rent was.”
“That’s hard to imagine. Is it in a good neighborhood?” your dad asks. “If it isn’t – what’s funny?”
Your neighborhood, being good. “There are five other houses besides mine. Three of them have families in them. They’ve been really nice to me, mostly. We all get together sometimes.”
“What for?”
Strategy sessions. Ghost fights on the sidewalk. Conjurer ambushes that end with half the street wrecked and some of you injured. “Just regular stuff. I went to one of the kids’ parties last weekend. I brought Phantom. She was a hit.”
“Who?”
“My dog,” you say. “I’d just gotten her the last time we talked. Don’t you remember?”
“She sent us a picture,” your dad reminds your mom, while you tamp down your frustration. “Is someone looking after her this weekend?”
“Yeah. My –” The stumbling block of how to describe Tomura temporarily breaks your brain. “A friend.”
You covered it well, you think – but you weren’t fast enough. “What kind of friend?” your mother asks, way too interested. “A special friend?”
“God, Mom. No.” You imagine the look on Tomura’s face if he heard someone refer to him as your “special friend” and experience a brief but powerful urge to crawl into a vent and die. “A friend. Really, I could have asked anybody in the neighborhood. They’re all really – nice.”
“A house,” your father muses. “In a good neighborhood. You must have a lot of friends over.”
You can’t tell if he’s needling you or not. He knows you’ve never been the type to have a lot of friends. “It’s kind of a ways out from where everybody else lives. Most people don’t like driving that far.”
“Oh, so that’s how you could afford it.”
You could afford it because it’s so goddamn haunted that nobody else wanted it, and the only reason you kept it is because the ghost who haunts it let you stay. “I don’t mind. I’d rather drive than have roommates and a landlord.”
Your father nods sagely. Your mother’s on a different track. “What about dating? Is there anybody special?”
“No,” you say, lying your ass off. “I’m not seeing anybody.”
Your phone starts ringing on the counter, but you ignore it, and so do your parents. “I don’t want to rush you, but you ought to get a move on, don’t you think?” your mother presses. “You’re going to be twenty-seven soon. If you don’t hurry up, all the good ones will be gone. Don’t you want to settle down?”
“I’m as settled down as I’m going to get,” you say. Your phone starts ringing again, and you ignore it again, even though you’d almost take a telemarketer over this conversation. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You’re not disappointing us if that’s what makes you happy,” your dad says, and you’re impressed for about two seconds before he ruins it. “Are you sure that’s what will make you happy? What about –”
“What about kids?” your mother breaks in, looking honestly distressed. “Don’t you want kids? You’d be such a good mom –”
You would possibly be the worst mom on the planet. Your phone starts ringing again. “Are you going to get that?” your dad asks.
You should. Three calls in a row means it’s important, but this line of questioning from your parents is pissing you off, which means you’re not in the mood to do anything you should be doing. “Nope.”
“I’ll get it,” your mom announces. She picks up the phone and gasps. “Who’s Tomura?”
Your stomach drops like you’ve been kicked off a building. “Nobody,” you say. “He’s –”
“I knew you had a special friend!”
“He’s not a special friend!”
Your mom brandishes your phone, triumphant. “Then why is there a heart next to his name?”
He wouldn’t. He – you stare at the screen of your phone, and sure enough, there’s Tomura’s name on the caller ID, complete with an obnoxiously red heart emoji. You’re going to kill him. You seize the phone, accept the call, and press it to your ear. “What?”
Tomura sounds unfathomably sulky when he answers. “You got me the phone so we can talk while you aren’t here. Why didn’t you pick up?”
“I’m having dinner with my parents. It’s rude to pick up the phone at dinner.” You’re conscious of your parents staring at you with identical gleeful looks on their faces. “Just like it’s rude to call somebody three times in a row. What was so important?”
“You didn’t call me all day.”
“You didn’t call me, either,” you point out, trying not to lose your temper. If he had called you, you’d have noticed his little edit to his contact and gotten rid of it. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. Phantom ate and everything.” Tomura’s quiet for a second. “You have parents?”
“Yesh,” you say. Did you tell him that’s who you were staying with? You don’t remember. “I’m staying with them, not at the hotel. They invited me.”
Tomura swears under his breath. You can hear him rustling around, but you’re not sure what he’s doing, and the longer you give your parents to prep for their interrogation, the worse it’s going to be for you. “Can I call you back in a little bit? I do want to talk to you. I just – can’t right now.”
“How long is a little bit?”
“I don’t know,” you say hopelessly. Why does it matter? It’s not like he’s going to fall asleep. “I will, though. I promise. I miss you.”
The words leave your mouth before you can really think them through, but it’s the truth. You do miss Tomura. You miss him extra right now, and you’re not looking forward to falling asleep without his presence lurking somewhere in the room. When you wake up from nightmares of the world between, he and Phantom are the only things that make you feel better. “I miss you, too,” Tomura says. Then he hangs up the phone.
You set it aside, then turn back to face your parents. “So,” your mother says, grinning, “who’s Tomura?”
Your ghost. The reason why you don’t date anymore. The reason why you’re as settled as you’re ever going to be and the reason why your parents aren’t getting grandkids and the reason you’re here at all in the first place. There’s no way to explain him that your parents will understand, so you pick the one thing they will understand, even if it’s sort of wrong. “My boyfriend.”
You stagger off to bed forty-five minutes later, feeling like you’ve been run over by a train. Your mom had lots of questions – about where you met Tomura, how long you’ve been seeing him, what he looks like, what he does for a living – almost all of which you had to lie about. You’re going to have to remember all those lies later, too. Your dad was more concerned about why you’d lie about having a boyfriend, at which point you lost patience a little bit and said that the conversation the three of you just had about it was all the reason you needed. Then your mom said she wanted to meet him, and you decided it was time to start clearing the table.
They have a guest room, which is where you’re staying. You get ready for bed, go inside, and shut the door before checking your phone again. You’ve got messages from Tomura – and from Keigo. You open Keigo’s first and grimace when you see what it says. The lights in your house are going berserk right now. If he’s trying to get ahold of you, you should pick up the phone.
Keigo sent a video, too. In it, the lights inside your house are flickering wildly, and the entire property seems to be surrounded by some kind of weird, wavering forcefield. Great. You check Tomura’s texts next. He wants to know where you are. Why you haven’t called him. Then there are a few texts of him winding himself up over reasons why you haven’t called him, externalizing a thought process you would have kept to yourself if it killed you, before it occurs to him that something might have happened to you. At which point the phone calls started. You dig your headphones out of your backpack, put them on, plug them in, and call Tomura back.
He picks up halfway through the first ring, and you start talking first. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just wasn’t planning to tell my parents about you, and because you called me when you did – and because you put that emoji in your display name – they found out.”
“Why does it matter if they found out?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you want to tell them about me?”
You almost point out that you said you weren’t planning to, not that you didn’t want to, but Tomura knows what you really meant. He knows you better than you think he does. “You’re hard to explain,” you say. “To people who don’t know about ghosts. It wouldn’t make sense to them.”
“Why not?” Tomura’s climbing the stairs. You can hear them creaking under his feet. “You’re my human. Not the kind of human Spinner and Jin are. The kind Aizawa is.”
“The kind Keigo is,” you correct. Tomura makes an irritated sound. “Aizawa and Hizashi are married.”
“So what? You’re that kind of human. That’s not hard to explain.”
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be. “I told my parents you’re my boyfriend. I hope that’s okay.”
“Boyfriend,” Tomura repeats, like he’s never heard it before – but when he speaks up again, it’s clear he’s got a handle on what it means. “If that’s what you have to call it so people understand, fine. As long as they know you’re my human.”
You could probably play off Tomura calling you his human as a cute nickname or something, but you’d really prefer not to have to do that. “If I tell people you’re my boyfriend, they’ll understand for sure.”
“Good.”
There’s some rustling around on Tomura’s end of the line. “What are you doing?” you ask. “Where are you?”
There’s a prolonged silence, which means Tomura’s somewhere he thinks he’s not supposed to be. There aren’t many options left these days. “You’re on the bed, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. So what?” More rustling. “It’s weird that you’re not here. I hate it.”
“I don’t like it, either,” you admit. When you close your eyes, it’s easy to picture Tomura stretched out on your side of the bed, taking up the space you usually would, head resting on your pillow. “Maybe there won’t be as much to go through tomorrow as I thought and I can get home tomorrow night instead.”
“The sooner you come back, the better.” Phantom’s collar rattles in the background of the call, and you know she’s jumped up on the bed with Tomura. “Spinner came over. He said I needed a game that wasn’t Rainbow Fish, so he gave me one and taught me how to play it. It’s – Pokémon?”
“He gave you something to play it on, too, right?” You need to thank Spinner. “What do you think of it?”
“It’s okay. The music is weird.” Tomura’s voice fades for a second, and you can hear Phantom slobbering into the microphone. “It was more fun before he left. I don’t like playing games alone.”
“You can ask him back over. I bet he wouldn’t mind,” you say. “Which starter did you pick? Fire, water, or grass?”
“Fire,” Tomura says. You could have guessed that. “My rival had water, though. I should have picked grass.”
“If you picked grass, your rival would have picked fire.”
“So they always pick the one that can beat yours?” Tomura sounds honestly pissed at the unfairness, and it makes you smile. “That’s stupid.”
“It would be boring if it was too easy,” you say. Tomura complains under his breath. “And they can’t beat you if you build a good team. I used to play that a lot as a kid. I can help if you want.”
“I don’t need help,” Tomura says. “You can watch if you want.”
“That sounds nice.” You imagine sitting next to Tomura with your head on his shoulder, letting the goofy Pokémon music lull you into a doze. It’s a weirdly relaxing image. You find yourself swallowing a yawn. “Sorry –”
“Go to sleep. If you don’t you’ll be slow, and then you’ll have to stay the extra day.” Tomura sounds annoyed, but he sounds annoyed any time you have to end an interaction before he wants it to end, so you’re used to it. What you’re not used to is what he says next. “If you have one of your nightmares, don’t just lay there doing that weird shivering thing. Call me.”
You lie there for a moment, stunned. You’ve never mentioned the nightmares to him. You never breathed a word. “How did you know?”
“I know what sounds you make in your sleep. When you’re having a nightmare they’re wrong.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “Don’t just lay there. Call.”
Your throat feels tight. “Okay.”
Tomura hangs up. You pull your headphones out of your ears, set your phone down on the nightstand, and squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t need to cry. There’s no reason why your eyes should well up.
You’re in your parents’ house. It’s a new house, but it feels the same as the old house. Even though your parents listen now. Even though they care about what’s going on in your life – for their own reasons, sure, but they care – your family is still the same way it’s always been. Quiet. Distant. Sterile. Your parents have seemed happier the last few times you’ve seen them. You’ve never admitted it out loud, to anyone, but you think they’ve been happier since you moved out, because you moved out. And that was okay with you. The last time you went back to visit, it was fine.
It’s not fine anymore – not because they’re different, but because you are. You remember Tomura saying once that he didn’t care about being alone before, but he does now. You didn’t let yourself care about the way your family was before, but you can’t stop yourself from caring now, because now you know how it feels to actually belong somewhere. You belong at your house. You’re wanted at your house. You make someone happy by being there. Somebody misses you when you’re gone, tells you to hurry back, tells you to call if you’ve had a nightmare. There’s probably something fucked up about the fact that the only person you’ve ever felt at home with isn’t even human. But you know what it means to feel at home now. Being away from that is hard. Harder than you want to handle.
You scramble for your phone, and it starts ringing in your hand. Tomura’s contact, with its stupid heart. You jam your headphones into your ears and accept the call, and for a moment you and Tomura are just talking over each other. The gist of it is pretty clear, though. You were about to call him, just when he decided to call you. “Um –”
“Stay on the phone while you’re sleeping. That way I’ll hear. And I can wake you up.”
Your heart lifts even though it shouldn’t. “How are you going to wake me up?”
You picture Tomura shrugging. “I’ll just yell.”
“Don’t yell.” The only thing that would be worse than having one of your nightmares is waking up from one to the sound of Tomura hollering in your ear. “If you hear me start to have one, hang up the phone and call me back. I’ll hear it ringing and it’ll wake me up.”
“Yelling is faster.”
“And it’s scarier,” you say. “You’d know if you slept.”
“Ghosts can’t.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “I wish we could.”
That strikes you as weird. It strikes you as weird any time Tomura talks about wanting to do one of the few human things materialized ghosts can’t do. “Why?”
Tomura doesn’t answer. “Fine. I won’t yell. Go to sleep.”
“Tomura –”
“Go to sleep,” Tomura says again. If you try to talk anymore, he’ll just ignore you. You hear Phantom snoring in the background and tell yourself that it’s time to sleep. You shut your eyes.
Somehow knowing that Tomura’s there on the other end of the line, knowing that he’ll wake you up if you start having one of your nightmares of the world between, helps you fall asleep. You think you hear Tomura whisper something as you drift off, but there’s no way you heard him right. It has to be a dream. At least it’s a better dream than the ones you’ve been having lately.
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18+, minor don't interact with the 18+ contentTomura shigaraki's biggest simpArtist, writter
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