Adhd*

Ashes to ashes

Summary: Even in the cold aftermath of the war, Tenko rests knowing he's not alone cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, fix it fic, fluff, drabble, how its actually going to end tbh wc: 742

Everything is bright. 

It’s the first thing he could think of as he blinks his eyes open. The sluggish movements paired with the rhythmic beeping of a machine next to him made it all feel more jarring. 

Once the blurring of his vision cleared he had a better idea of his situation. 

He’s in the hospital. 

There is a window, a machine monitoring his vitals and

You. 

Your head is down as you sat by the side of his bed, the slow breathing of your form clueing him in on your current sleeping status. 

How long have you been here? At his side as he lie in a hospital bed for god knows how long? 

His heart — feeling new, feeling warm aches in ways that have nothing to do with the soreness of his other muscles. 

It makes him reach out to you, his hands are bandaged, but he knows decay no longer rests within him. He knows the quirk was destroyed along with his hatred, yet he still maintains a lifted finger as he pets the top of your resting head. 

Somehow you were so comfortable sleeping at an awkward angle — leaning over onto his bed as you sat next to him in your chair. 

It’s cute. 

You’re cute. 

He feels a smile pull at his features, it grows even bigger as you stir, waking to the disturbance. 

Your eyes are slow as they open and he can only feel himself relax as you look at him again. 

He thought he’d never see you again. 

“Tenko.” Your voice is soft, heavy with sleep as you speak and the words waver with the tears filling your eyes. “Thank god you’re awake.”

Yes, Tenko, no longer Tomura Shigaraki. It feels like a dream, but that part of him died with the end of the war. Only the embers of his true being remaining to be born again from the ashes. 

Your hand catches his and there is no fear in your movements. You are not afraid of him — you were never afraid of him. 

You’ve always loved him throughout it all. 

“How long have you been here?” He drags himself to ask, voice hoarse from lack of use and Tenko can see the way your shoulders shake as you struggle to answer — as you struggle to fight the tears. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Is your only response as you rise from your chair, knocking it back from the force of your movements as you race to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. 

It’s tight and it presses on the bandages all over his body but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s just content with you being the first thing he sees as he came to. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your shaking sobs, knowing you would get on to him about calling you a crybaby. No, he allows you this moment, pulling you in closer and burying his nose into the crook of your neck. 

“I was so scared, Tenko,” you start, words breaking free from the confines of your mind, “I thought you were gone for good.”

He rubs soothing motions onto your back, pulling you in tighter. “I thought I was, too.”

The words only make you cry harder, the tears make his heart ache along with the pain throughout his body now. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” you murmur, and he knows. He’s always known. “Please don’t ever leave me again.”

Tenko pulls you back, forehead now resting against yours and — god, he knows you would hate to hear him say it, but he can’t help it. He thinks you’re cute in all forms, even when crying. 

“I,” he pauses and looks at you, really looks at you — and seeing his entire world in your eyes only brings the sting of unfamiliar tears. “I love you, too. I won’t leave your side again.”

He brings you in for a kiss, a gentle press of his lips against yours and you take all that you can, eyes closing and head tilting. 

Tenko pulls away and it’s brief only to mutter a firm, “I promise.”

Then he’s back, kissing you like his life depended on it. 

Even so close to you, he knows the warm tears trailing down his face were his own. The burn of them is unmistakable. Tenko can only bring himself to smile into the kiss, feeling anew. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried. 

"can i help you with something?" you ask sun in muffled amusement one day, eyes glued to the tablet in your hands. the last kid at the daycare had finally been picked up, leaving you to do your end-of-day inventory check in preparation for tomorrow.

"hm?" sun feigns ignorance, lanky body casting your own in his shadow as he hovers over you at your side. "with what?" a tone of innocence lines his voice, but you know he is anything but.

you look up to give him a deadpanned stare, metallic fingers pinching gently at your cheek and pulling slightly in a way that makes your mouth stretch. "oh, i don't know," you start in a lighthearted manner, "do you need your fingers oiled again?"

sun tugs at your cheek a bit harder and you swat at his arm, but he doesn't relent. "mmmmnope! joints are in tip-top shape!"

"well can you stop pinching my cheek?" you roll your eyes and are forced to lower your tablet when his other hand comes up to pinch and pull at your other cheek, too. it makes him crowd further into your space, his lithe form moving to cover your front as his head bends over your significantly smaller body.

sun only hums again and you're forced to adhere to his whims for the time being. you know you won't be able to pry him away, robot strength be damned. "i can't help it! you're so... squishy."

"well, yes." you snort to yourself and squint your eyes closed as he pulls at your skin as though it's made of playdough. spoiler alert, it's not. "human being, remember? not durable robot?" you emphasize the word in an attempt to get him to stop, but he ignores it. you huff, and when you feel your cheeks start to ache from his ministrations, you complain. "sun, c'mon, you're acting like my grandma at holidays. stop it."

sun lets out a little click that makes you peek up at him through your eyelashes. his head has tilted to the right, and a twitch of his smile is all the warning you get before he forces himself further into your personal space.

"ooh look how much you've grown!" sun coos down at you in an impression of someone elderly, thumbs rubbing into your cheeks. it makes you huff, but you resign yourself to his teasing. hopefully he just needs to get it out of his system. "my baby is so big now! adorable! gorgeous! they grow up so fast!" he releases one of your cheeks so he can pretend to wipe a tear from one of his white eyes. you internally celebrate at the relief and quickly lift your hand not holding your tablet to cover your aching cheek. his head tilts to the left at the loss, but he's still got his fingers pinching at the other side of your face. you're not sure how much of this you can take.

"sun, buddy, you're killing me over here," you manage to get out, ears tinged red at all his attention. his grin seems to widen.

"i remember when you were just a wee thing!" sun continues in a voice that's a pretty spot on imitation of someone in their later years. "dancing around, pretending to marry that little toy you had. tell me sweetie, do you have any special person in your life, hm? any lover? am i gonna have any grandbabies running around soon?"

a flush crawls up your neck at his words and you halfheartedly glower up at him. honestly, what the hell? where is this even coming from? sun only finds delight in your glare, however, if the way his rays spin around is any indication.

"dude," is all you manage to say. it makes his eyes upturn into crescents. "knock it off— ow! hey, that hurts!" he'd given your cheek a particularly rough tug and it makes something drop in the pit of your stomach. you watch with wide eyes as he lowers himself until his face is mere inches from yours, dark with the shadows from the fluorescent lighting above.

"well?" sun whispers to you, all the mirth and delight gone from his voice as though they had never been there in the first place. you swallow heavily and suddenly feel very, very uneasy. his smile stretches farther along his face, unnatural and thin. "do you?"

Uber Eats

synopsis: What a crappy Friday night! You’re the only driver for your restaurant and you have to deliver to this Tomura S. guy. The worst part? He never tips. wc: 2.7k content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless au, oral (f! receiving), overstim, degredation, vaginal fingering, mdni cross posted to ao3

You hated this guy. 

He ordered every week without fail, like clockwork. 

“Do I have to make this delivery?” You ask your manager, wishing the ticket in your hand would burst into flames. 

It did not. 

The black ink only stared back at you as you stewed in your own misery: 

Tomura S. 

“You’re the only driver we have!” Your manager calls back to you, tossing some rice around in a wok before dropping it into a takeout container. “But after this, you’re good to go.” he placed the next order into the wok and the hiss of the food only added to the bustle of the restaurant.

You sigh, accepting your fate and crumple the receipt in your hand. It was the last delivery of the night so you find solace in at least being able to leave once you were done.

This guy was a known regular, and better known for not leaving a tip. Ever. It didn’t matter how big the order was and it didn’t matter what the weather had been outside — Tomura S. would not tip. And unfortunately for you it seemed he was more likely to order on your shift so you had to be the one to deliver. What awful luck.

Your manager waves you off after he finishes packing Tomura’s order and you step outside to your bike. It was about a fifteen minute bike ride, and the sweet promise of going home was all the motivation you needed to get it over and done. You put the order in the front basket of your bike and were off, hitting more than a few bumps in the road on your way.

Once you reach the apartment complex, you set your bike aside and head up to his door.

You’ve been here many times before, but that doesnt stop the nerves. 

Tomura was an… interesting fellow. Never a smile on his face and rarely a thank you. 

You steel yourself at the door of his apartment, taking a breath before raising your fist to knock. Maybe today would be different, you ponder, shifting your weight to cool your nerves. Maybe he would tip generously and send you on your way.

Everything could all be a big misunderstanding and you start to feel yourself get a little hopeful. He could be a nice guy under that rocky demeanor — maybe you’ve misjudged him.

The door opens with a little too much force and a vermillion glare meets your eyes. 

You feel yourself falter under his gaze. “Um, Tomura?" You put on the best smile you could and extend your arm, the bag of takeout presented to him. "Here’s your order.”

He looks down at the bag and then back up to you — carmine eyes giving away ill hidden boredom before ripping it from your hand and turning on his heels. The slam of his door making you jolt as you strained to hear his muttered thanks. So quiet you’re sure you may have imagined it. 

It would be generous to say you were shocked, but tonight had not been a kind night to you. A few too many potholes on your way here and a few too little tips given out has your lips pursed and fists clenching in anger. You had just about had it with this man. 

What was his deal? You come all this way, make sure his food is hot — hell, you even smile and that's still not enough. Well, you were done playing nice and found your fist tapping against his door before your brain could process your actions.

In less than a few seconds the door swung open, this time a much more annoyed Tomura greeting you. 

“What?” He rasped, face turned down into a scowl, much different from his earlier indifference. 

You don't waver, “What is your deal?”

His brows shoot up in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“I said, what is your deal? I’ve been delivering to you for months and not a single time have you tipped me! You know that's how I make a living right? It's just unfair.” you huff, exasperated.

This seems to surprise him further, and if you weren't crazy you would think that was amusement on his lips. “Tip? Is that what you want?”

You are surprised, but you nod. 

He huffs, taking a step back, “Fine.”

And then he’s gone. 

You’re not sure if he intends for you to follow him inside the apartment, but you have an idea that he wouldn't leave his door open otherwise — so, against your better judgment, you go in. 

It's dark in the apartment, and not very spacious. The dim lighting gives you little to work with but the blue light from the idle game screen playing on the tv in the living room helps you make out what you're looking at. Tomura has already gone deeper into the home, no doubt to his bedroom or wherever he may keep his money. You decide to stay where you are in the living room and look around a little.

The space wasn’t… awful, messy — yes, but not disgusting. It looked average to what any other twenty-something living alone would look like. 

You try not to make a habit of getting to know customers you deliver to, but judging from the nintendo switch docked near his television, it seems you may have a little in common. 

What surprises you are the anime figurines and plushies lining the bookshelf near the television. He didn’t strike you as a plushie enjoyer. Finding yourself smiling, you walk over to one. A green dino with goofy teeth and cute eyes. Cute. You reach out to touch it, the plushie feeling as soft as it looked.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood break your focus and you look back to see a grumpy Tomura, looking through his – assumedly empty –  wallet, “I don’t have any cash on me.”

His hair is fluffy and white, but looks a pale blue in the hue of the paused game on the television screen. His frustration is prominent in his scowl and you take this moment to really look at him, carmine eyes focused and brooding. He was taller than you originally thought and his black shirt was loose around the collar area, exposing his collar bones and you find your eyes drifting lower. You could tell he was toned under the thin black shirt he wore but you had never had a chance to really notice. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

“Did you hear me?” 

Your eyes snap up, cheeks flushing, “Y-yeah!”

He huffed, irritation obvious but continued anyway, “well, what do you want?”

You don't know what you want anymore. If he doesn't have cash then it doesn’t matter. This seems like it may have just been an oversight on his part, so you may be better off letting this go. Maybe he would order again and tip you extra next time.

You take a few steps forward, every intention to walk by him and get to the front door when you stop, finally responding to his question, “nothing, just remember next time.” Your gaze catches his and then drifts lower, to his lips. Tomura catches the trail of your gaze and it forces you to look away. You swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips but maybe you were tired, it has been a long day. 

You shift your weight, ready to continue on your way out when Tomura reaches for your arm, grip tight and demanding. It takes you by surprise, but surprises you even further when he dips down and crashes his lips into yours, rough ones meeting the softness of yours. The kiss is not smooth or slow, but needy and hungry, Tomura playfully nipping your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“I have an idea,” he breathes and pulls you by the hand to his couch, falling ungracefully onto it and in an instant he's on top of you. 

Your cheeks are burning as you place both palms onto his chest to halt his movements, “H-hey, what are you doing?”

His laugh is low as if you should already know the plan. “I’m going to give you your tip.” 

And then he's down again, lips warm and demanding. A moan escapes your throat and you fist a hand in his hair, overwhelmed and desperate to get more of him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you waste no time letting him in. His large hand trailed down your side, and you pressed closer to him. He felt intoxicating, and arousal pooled in your belly as Tomura pulled away, panting. He was just as flushed as you knew you were, the wild look in his eyes only making the arousal between your thighs slicker.

Tomura trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving soft bites in between licks. A particularly hard bite made you gasp, gripping his shoulder and turning your head, giving him better access to your neck.

He only chuckled, sitting back and looking down at you, “You look like whore.” he spat, teasing tone in his smile. “All spread out on my couch like this.”

His hands moved to your pants, popping the buttons and pulling them down. You should stop him, tell him to wait because you barely know him and it's a little soon, but his words have you biting your lip and lifting your hips to help him get your pants down and off. 

That only makes Tomura shake his head in disbelief, a pleased smile betraying his false disappointment. 

He reaches down and presses his middle finger to your clothed cunt, rubbing soft circles and laughs, “You’re soaked. Didn’t take you for such a slut.”

The words only spurred you on, spreading your legs further and closing your eyes. It felt good to finally get some kind of contact – he was right where he needed to be. Until he pulled away, leaving you more desperate and a complaint on your lips. You stop in your tracks though as Tomura leans down, tongue licking you through your panties. 

Your hands fly to his hair, moan erupting from your lips. You’re unsure how thin his apartment walls are, but you don't care. The feeling sends pleasure shooting up your spine and your heart picks up its pace.

Tomura laps at your clothed cunt, fabric muting the full feeling but giving you enough to cry out. You find yourself grinding closer, body begging him to keep going and he obliges, only for a moment. He gives your cunt one more kiss before pulling back and pulling your soaked panties down and off, tossing them across the living room. 

He wastes no time diving back in, tongue licking a strip from your hole to your clit and your back arches. The hold you have on Tomura’s hair is so tight, you're sure it’s painful at this point, but he only groans, wet muscle lapping your clit eagerly. Your thighs reflexively try to close, but Tomura is faster, hand stopping them and thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Oh, god,” you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure building quickly and you will yourself not to go over – not yet. That would be embarrassing. 

You feel the pressure in your abdomen tighten and it's clear you won't last much longer. Tomura took that moment to suck your sensitive nub and you spill over, mouth open in a silent moan and thighs quivering.

Tomura rides you through it, only pulling away from his ministrations once you catch your breath. “That soon, huh?” There's no bite to his words and you only give him a halfhearted glare, heavy lidded eyes still reeling from your orgasm. 

You’re distracted and don’t notice Tomura’s not finished with his antics. It wasn’t until you felt a digit pressing at your heat, slipping in slowly and making you mewl in pleasure. You were soaked, and the pressure making your head loll onto the armrest of the couch. It felt so full already. 

“Ah!” you gasped, feeling the familiar glide of Tomura’s tongue against your oversensitive clit once more. 

It was almost too much, your cries reaching new heights as he pumped his digit in and out of your sopping cunt, juices from your arousal mixing with his saliva. He was taking his time building your next orgasm, moving slow and steady, making your toes curl in pleasure. 

The push of a second finger against your hole had you tapping Tomura’s shoulder, “t-too much! Tomura!” 

Your cries fell on deaf ears as he continued, tip of his tongue flicking your clit as the second finger pushed in to join the first, waisting no time fucking you in earnest. His fingers were thick and the feeling of being so full made you dizzy, pleasure spiraling as you tried to ground yourself mentally. You grabbed Tomura’s shoulder, fisting his shirt in your hand as you lost yourself in the pleasure once more. 

Tomura’s motions ceased as his eyes met yours. You could only imagine how blissed out you looked in this moment, breath ragged and sweat clinging to your brow. Tomura wasn’t much better off — he was as desperate as you, hair splayed in wild directions after your hands ravaged through it. You open your mouth – impatient words on the tip of your tongue and Tomura curls his fingers, digits hitting that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

He flattens his tongue, giving your clit a final lap and it sends you over – for the second time tonight. 

Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. The feeling sends waves of pleasure throughout your body, eyes squeezed shut and mind buzzing. 

Tomura watches as you come apart, palming his erection in awe. You meet his eyes once you come down from your second high of the night and Tomura wastes no time in crashing his lips to yours, clumsy and wet. You could taste yourself on his lips and groan when he pulls you closer. 

There's a trail of saliva linking the two of you once he pulls away, but Tomura’s heavy gaze is only on you. He leans back in once more to give you a much softer kiss, before pulling away again and giving the same soft kiss on your cheek — heat rushing to them for reasons entirely different from what just transpired between you both. 

It was very… intimate – in a way you did not expect from someone who had just called you a slut. 

It makes you want to reach out for him when he pulls away further, eyes seemingly pondering something you’re unaware of. He looked down at you one more time, before looking to his television and his unopened takeout bag on the coffee table. 

“My show is about to start, so…” he starts, picking up the remote to change the channel of the television, screen lighting up and noise filling the room. You stare as Tomura sits back and gets comfortable, opening his takeout bag and removing the contents. 

Was he… was he kicking you out right now? Seriously? 

Your brows fly up, eyes widened in disbelief — his lack of reaction at your scoff only proves you right. He was kicking you out. Bullshit. The humiliation is evident as you scurry to find your pants, not bothering to find wherever the hell he tossed your underwear earlier, and get the hell out of there before you said something you would regret. 

The only thing on your mind was the front door as you brushed by Tomura one last time. 

“Hey!” he called, gluing you to your spot. Your heart jumped as you turned back to him vaguely hoping he would offer you to stay a little longer.

That small flame of hope died as soon as it came because Tomura was only extending your long forgotten phone to you. 

You snatch the device from his hand and make your way out the door, face burning and legs still tingling from the way he made you come undone mere moments before. 

Once you reach your bike you find yourself huffing in annoyance. What else did you expect? Him to offer you some of his takeout? That would just be silly. You’re walking your bike to the sidewalk, ready to hop on and go back to the restaurant – sure your manager is worried sick about his only driver – before your phone buzzes in your back pocket. 

Tomura S.

Your eyes widened as you read a text from the name you knew you hadn't saved in your contacts before. 

You forgot my drink.

Safe Wording with the League

League of Villains Reacting to You Safe Wording

Characters: Dabi, Shigaraki, Compress, Twice, Toga with female!reader

Warnings: overstimulation, biting kink, sir/master kink, role playing, dom/sub themes, sex toys, oral (female receiving), degradation, edging, begging(?) , mentions of knife and blood play, alluding to past traumas (let me know if I missed warnings)

Note: practice safe sex, and talk about safe words and boundaries if you need to

Dabi

Dabi and you typically have fairly intense sex anyways

But tonight, dabi and you were going pretty hard

Dabi had been eating you out for a while now

“What a little slut, can’t even handle my teasing”

By this point, you had cum more times than you could count, crying and overstimulated

“No more.. please” but all dabi did was smirk before assaulting your swollen cunt even more

You tried pushing his head away but his grip on your thighs only tightened

Before dabi could even come up with some snarky remark, you safe worded out

He almost didn’t hear you, almost

But he did, and stopped before sitting up and looking at your crying face

He didn’t know how to feel, you had never safe worded before and hell if he knew what to do

He got up and left to get a rag to help clean you up and got you come clothes and blankets

Once he was finished, he got you a glass of water and sat next to you on the bed

“Need anything else?” His eyes were planted on your crying face as you tried to form a sentence

You sleepily shook your head as Dabi settled into bed next to you and wrapped an arm around you

Shigaraki

Shigaraki liked to play the Master with you as a servant or maid, or even sometimes a pet

Tonight was no different, but unlike the other times Shigaraki was already having a bad day 

Unfortunately for you, it meant taking his anger out on you while doing the deed 

Now, neither of you have ever shied away from degradation before but something about Shigaraki’s tone made it feel real 

Like he actually saw you as all the things he claimed you were and that was too much 

The moment he heard you safe word, his body stopped and his mind raced 

Did he do something wrong? Were you okay?? 

Almost immediately his hand reached down to your cheek/neck as he pulled out and pulled you into a sitting position

For once in his life he felt like the world ended 

He didn’t know what to say, but he knew how to take care of you and that’s what he did 

cleaning you up and making sure you were warm and in all the clothing you found the most comfortable

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other 

you both had a serious talk in the morning about what happened and how to prevent it later in life 

Mr. Compress

Out of all of the people in the league, Compress knew where the line in the sand was, even without you two talking about boundaries 

He had a couple partners in the past that had become sexual and given his theatrical personality, he always made sure to talk about safe words and the such 

You were no different and he valued your input and your opinions

You had used your safe word in the past so he knew what you needed

But he is a gentleman first and foremost so he cleaned you up carefully before tending to other things

Need a bath? He’s already getting out your favorite candles

Need some time to recover and decompress? Done! He’s right there, holding you and letting you do your thing in comfortable silence

Need reassurance? This man has you covered. He’ll praise you and promise you that you did nothing wrong and that he’s proud of you for safe wording

Overall, compress is the best person to safe word with

Twice

With twice, it’s a bit difficult to get intimate with him

Yes, he finds you attractive (who wouldn’t find you attractive??) but with his spilt personality it can be hard

But you don’t mind the challenge, and even encourage both of “him” to engage in play

While this is a bit tricky to navigate the first coupes of times, you do get the hang of it.

Though, sometimes his other side does take it too far

Sometimes even going as far as making twice stop what he’s doing and blurts out something along the lines of “you can never be good enough for us”

And it’s those times when you safe word, which trigger twice into a protector mode

He immediately rushes over to you, gently cradling your head and asking what’s wrong

You two always find yourselves having a long chat that ends with soft kisses and the best cuddles

Toga

Toga doesn’t know what safe words are

Hell, she may not but just doesn’t care

But she cares with you, she cares so much for you and your safety

She even has dull, blunt knives to use with you

She always ensures that you are okay with her biting you or using a knife with you

And, you two have a wonderful, pleasureful experience

Until today, when everything was piling up and up and up until all you could feel was your worries and anxieties

Toga tried to use pleasure as a way to help you destress, which usually worked

But today it had the opposite effect and it only heightened your anxiety

When you safe worded, toga couldn’t believe what she had just heard

She felt.. betrayed almost, she was just trying to help you!

So she left, leaving you to try and clean up by yourself

But compress saw her upset and upon figuring out, told her what to do and how to help

She came back, albeit begrudgingly, and helped clean you up and get you warm

It took a couple of days for her to even talk to you after that, but once you explained what happened she went back to her bubbly, homicidal self.

FROM THE INSIDE w shigaraki

post date voyeurism

n_fw. 2114wc. dead dove do not eat. obsession/voyeurism (noncon: reader is unaware), masturbation, porn, spy cameras, murder mentioned. background phrogging/stalking. yn is slightly aware of something being off but hasn’t accepted what yet. 

It’s late when he hears your car pull into the driveway, snarling when he glances at his phone and realizes it’s after midnight. Too fucking late.

He slips upstairs, quiet as he listens to the front door open and close before you drop your keys in the dish with the sweetest of giggles. It’s only then that he realizes you’re on the phone, his stomach turning at the thought of one of those annoying little men from your office being on the other end of the line.

You looked extra pretty when you’d left for work this morning, making time to do your makeup and style your hair. You’d even opted for clothes fresh out of your closet instead of the trousers you’d worn to work a few times before and the blouse you both favored.

“Yeah,” he hears you say. “I’m inside. The door is locked. Safe and sound, Kaminari.”

Kaminari Denki. Tomura just barely bites back a scowl as he recognizes the name as one of the sound engineers in the office.

“I had fun, too. I’d love to do it again... Feeding my cat, actually. I haven’t seen him yet but I know he’s hungy….Hahaha. Yeah, of course I’m going to blame you. Mmmm…me too. Ok…Good night.”

He listens, catching sight of you when you pass him on your way to the bathroom. Your hair is a little mused, skin dewy from the long day, and he has to stop himself from reacting because you aren’t quite his. Not yet, at least. But fuck if he doesn’t hate Kaminari for being the one to look you all night.

It doesn’t take long for you to go through your normal routine, heading back down stairs to have a glass of water and take your pills after your shower. He lingers in the bathroom, breathing in the soft, sweet scent of your soap and retracing the heart doodled in the steam on your mirror before he hears you coming back up for bed.

He wonders, just for a moment, what you would do if you knew that he waits up to you. Would you be embarrassed for being with a man when he’s quite literally right here, or would you be surprised to know he’d even taken interest? It works for him either way.

Once he’s sure you’re in bed, he makes his way over to your room, lingering to the side of the doorway.

“Hello?”

He presses his shoulder into your wall, perfectly silent as he waits.

“Mushu? Is that you, baby?”

The cat meows, rubbing against his legs before making his way into your room. “Ah, hello, bb. I wondered where you were. Did you have your dinner? Bleh- ok Mr Tuna Breath, you had it.”

The cat begins to talk to you, meowing whole stories, and Tomura resists the urge to groan in exasperation as he waits a few minutes for Mushu to make his way back out of your room. He considers calling the night, but you don’t let him down. 

Your phone unlocks a moment later, loud and obnoxious, and he takes the opportunity to peek in, his eyes zeroing in on your screen to see what you’re into tonight. A smile tugs at his lips when he recognizes the app, his cock already hard in his sweats as he eases his hand into the waistband.

There’s no sound- a blessing and a curse, because it forces him to keep quiet but lets him hear you so perfectly- and it only takes a few seconds to hear you sigh, a soft moan following before he hears you say, “God, that’s so hot…”

Tomura squints, just barely making out what he’s sure is someone getting fisted, and feels his breath catch. His cock goes painful as his eyes shift to you in the dark, throbbing as he smears precum down his length. He licks his lips as he makes you out, watching at your failed attempt to prop your phone up before you abandon the idea in favor of shoving both hands under your covers.

“Haa, fuck,” you breathe, the sound short circuiting his mind.

He wants to touch you. To smell and taste, too, but he settles for what he gets for now, his free hand cupping his balls and squeezing until he can’t take it, choking silently.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he hears you whimper. “Harder, please- haa, fuck-”

He’d kill to know what fantasy is playing out in your mind. To give it to you. Harder, faster- he fucks into his fist, hoping he matches your pace as he measures your breathy whimpers and senseless pleading- he’d give you anything if it meant he could feel your cunt straining around his thick cock. His fist. Even to fuck you senseless with a toy (he’s seen you do it to yourself and still hasn’t gotten the sound of your teary, soaked sobs out of his head- it’s a miracle he hasn’t snapped, if he’s honest with himself).

But he’s patient. If with nothing else, he’s patient with and for you. He bides his time until it’s perfect. Because he wants to give that to you. Needs to, even. At least for a little while, before he ruins you for anyone else just so he can have you to himself.

His eyes finally make you out clear in the dark and he watches, starved for you, as your fuck yourself with your fingers under the cover of your blankets, crying for relief he wants so badly to give you until your jerking unsteadily, cumming hard and fast  just before he does.

The slightest of whimpers escape him and he moves quickly as you react slowly. He realizes that he’d eased deeper into your room as he just barely slips out in time. Biting his tongue, he presses himself against the wall before you can make him out in the darkness, his cum hot on his fingers as he waits.

“I-is anyone there? Mushu???”

No. He holds his breath, praying your limbs are too heavy after cumming to get out of bed and is rewarded by the soft sound of you sighing and your bedding rustling as you get comfortable.

Tomura exhales, hand still working over his sensitive cock as the memory of your voice plays in his head. His eyes fall closed, picturing his cock disappearing into the heat of your pussy, your smile as you fuck yourself against him, hair falling into his face as you lean in and take a kiss. As his head falls back against the wall, he brings a hand up to his throat, imagining the way your pretty eyes should go glassy as he squeezes. He imagines that you tremble and jerk in his hold, your body coming hard -harder, better than you do for yourself, because unlike you, he wouldn’t stop- before collapsing into him for comfort.

It’s an amusing thought, because no one in their right mind should look for comfort in him. It isn’t even the last thing he wants people to feel because of him. But you- you’ve always inspired a new part of him. One that he’s wanted to ruin and nurture from the moment you moved in. Since the moment he moved in.

He cums hard, his vision blurry as he chokes back moans and groans of pleasure in favor of a few strained, silent gasps for breath. Fuck…fucking-

His phone vibrates and he shoves his clean into his pocket to grab it before he flips it open, annoyance underlining his silence. It spikes at the sound of Dabi’s laugh, but he strokes the sensitive head of his spent cock in an attempt to hold on just a little longer too you’re shared orgasm as a rough voice comes through the speaker: “I’m outside.”

He listens for a moment, comforted by the familiar sounds of you breathing in your sleep. “Ok,” he licks his hand clean as he retreats to his room for a moment. “2 minutes.”

Tomura makes his way back down the hall, slipping into the alcove you never bother with and climbing the old steps with practiced ease. He shuts your attic door silently, crossing the shared space and exiting into the alcove that leads to his house. But, he doesn’t bother shutting his door as he descends his steps, your sweet sounds still ringing in his ears.

His phone vibrates and he checks the message before changing into jeans: stop jacking off and come the fuck on

He rolls his eyes, pockets his phone, and takes a quick look at your cameras to see that you’ve kicked the bedding away as you lay back, nearly starfished on your bed. Your head tilts, looking at your phone, and he reaches out to slip his headphones on just in time to be rewarded by the sound of you sighing as you reach for it again.

“God,” he hears you murmur once you’ve found another video. “So good…”

This one has sound, and he listens for a moment, watching as you stare wide-eyed at your phone. He wishes he could see what it is you’re watching. But, as it stands, all he can make out as the slick, squishy sounds of what he’s almost certain is the cum lube that cam-girls love so much as someone gets fucked.

The moans aren’t fake, which he knows you appreciate as much as he does, but for as much as wonderful as some girl fucking herself stupid sounds, she isn’t you. And he finds himself annoyed as he leans closer to the screen as though it’ll help him hear you.

It works- marginally. Made better by the fact that the screen illuminates your face, making it easy for him to see your little expressions as your hand slips back into your shorts.

He just barely resists the urge to fist his cock, groaning as his phone begins to vibrate again. You whimper, leaving him rock hard in his jeans as he checks to make sure he’s recording.

“Fuck, please,” he hears you beg as he reaches to tug off his headphones. “Want it too fucking bad…”

“Wait,” he grins, watching a few seconds longer as he sets them back down. Your hips fuck into your hand and he tears his eyes away, knowing he’d stay until your done if he doesn’t.

He slips out of his house silently, glancing back at your house to see Mushu sitting in the window, orange eyes watching him. Just a little longer. 

“Took you long enough,” Dabi quips when he gets into the car. “We’re going to miss the fucking raid.”

“Chill,” Tomura sighs, relaxing into the passenger seat. “We’re gonna be right on time, idiot.”

“What took you so long, anyway? Get stuck?”

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate, knowing his friend takes a little too much joy out of the situation. “Would it be acceptable to kill the guy she’s dating?”

Dabi laughs, shaking his head as he lights a Seven Star. Tomura wrinkles his nose, rolling down the window as he angles himself away from the smoke. Your nose is too sensitive for him to smell like anything but you, and the heady tobacco-menthol scent is sure to distract you even after he’s taken another god-forsaken shower.

“Why are you asking me? We both already know you’ve made up your mind.”

He hasn’t, which is why he’s asking. But the last thing he wants is for Dabi to think he values his opinion on anything.

“Maybe leave him a warning instead,” Dabi offers a few minutes later, stubbing out his cigarette. “That’s more fun.”

“Too much work.”

“Lemme help you.”

He cuts his eyes over to Dabi to see the remnants of a smile on his lips, blue eyes flashing over to the passenger seat once he feels Tomura’s gaze on him.

“Com’on, bro. It’ll be fun. I’ll take care of it.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why, huh? You’re my dearest friend” -Tomura scoffs and Dabi snickers because he knows he’s full of shit- “I love that you’re in love. And knowing you aren’t going to die a virgin has me rock fucking hard.”

“Fuck off.”

“Wanna feel?”

“Fine.”

“Oh shit-” Dabi switches hands on the wheel and catches Tomura’s wrist. “My lucky day, hmm?”

He snatches his arm away, shoving Dabi a second later.

“See,” Dabi continues to laugh. “This is your problem. You’re hot and fucking cold.”

“Fine to taking care of it,” Tomura hisses, pressing himself against the door in annoyance over Dabi’s antics. Especially considering the fact that he’s still half fucking hard over the thought of you getting off into you pass out. “Fucking weirdo.”

a part of a larger idea that’ll probably never get completed but god if if doesn’t keep me up at night

Omg omg omg why is this description of the reader so accurate to me imma die (die in pure happiness :bluargg)

Have you heard the song “give your heart a break” by Demi Lovato imagine that as a cute love story for Shigaraki with the female reader?

(I was thinking about just using the song as a story title and then use your imagination and get creative with whatever you choose and just have fun with it?😅)

Give Your Heart a Break - a soft Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader series

CHAPTER 1 (Minors Don't Interact)

Notes: You asked for a love story, and you're getting a love story XD. I plan for this to be a continuing series. No overarching goal with this series, just a sweet story about how Shigaraki fell hard for the reader. It will be messy! Shigaraki is not a healthy guy and would be a vile boyfriend, but I will make this as fluffy as possible. Underneath all that homicidal rage is just a boy who was never loved. This is admittedly a very, "I can fix him," kind of story lmao.

Summary: First encounter between Shigaraki and the reader. The whole chapter is literally Shiggy freaking out in GameStop because you walked in and you're so pretty and he wants to talk to you but doesn't know how.

Warnings will come and go as each chapter comes out.

Warnings: The canon of BNHA is altered; quirks still exist but Shigaraki is more of a "thug" gang leader than a domestic terrorist lmao. NSFW (no sex in this chapter), Shigaraki is a creep, fluff, blue-haired Shigaraki (season 4ish), CHEESY, Shigaraki hears voices and has very loud intrusive thoughts (they are highlighted in blue and red), POV swings, CLIFFHANGER

Notes about Reader's Appearance and Personality: HEAVILY based off of me. She's shy and polite up front but silly and vulgar with people close to her. She is short and a little thicc. Alternative clothing style and she's messy looking. She is a gamer! She is insinuated to be Shigaraki's age (20), maybe even older. She likes anime! She has crooked teeth.

Tomura wasn't unlike other 20-year-old men in that he found himself checking out girls from time to time. He usually didn't do more than look in his peripheral vision, actually, love and romance and even sex were all things Tomura wasn't acquainted with. There's no way someone so twisted could ever be loved.

Tomura loved giving off the impression that he needed nobody. Even in the League, he isolated a lot while the other members would be doing something together. He'd retreat to his own room and play games or plan out operations, but sometimes he'd retreat so that he could cuddle up with his favorite body pillow and just lay there.

He'd probably kill anyone who ever found out about it, but he was starving for love. To be touched, held, kissed. For someone to play with his hair and be comfortable around him. Everyone's so afraid of him, and that's a good thing! However, sometimes he just wished he had someone, just ONE person who wanted his company. Someone to listen to him rant for hours about how much he hates heroes, someone to play games with, someone to make love to, or someone to just hold for comfort when he was stressed.

He'd commit mass genocide if anyone knew he'd had imaginary girlfriends.

Now, a big scary bad guy like Tomura could get a girlfriend, right?? Just use those scare tactics, hold her by the throat with one finger up, and tell her she has no option but to love him. Steal her, hide her, keep her to himself? Sure, the fantasy was a little hot to him, and he could so easily do it. Tomura didn't want that though. As possessive as he is, he wanted to be loved. Not feared. He's feared plenty.

He'd kill if anyone knew how much pain he's in every time he sees a cute couple walk into GameStop. It pisses him off so bad. Why can't he have that?

"Well, doi, Shigaraki. You're a murderer, a psychopath, and a villain. Just one touch and it's over. What girl is going to want your hands all over her?"

"Whatever."

-

Shigaraki was currently at GameStop looking for a video game he'd been wanting to play. He picked the game and came up with a few fingers, turning it the other way around to read the details. As he was reading, he heard a ding from the door, meaning someone was entering the store. Shigaraki always looked when it went off because he could never be too sure that some hero bounty hadn't tracked him down. He looked over to the door, expecting it to be nothing special.

Whatever Tomura was feeling right now started in his eyes. Goodness, you were so...colorful. Not even! It was funny, considering you were wearing mostly black. However, your pretty hair that was put up in pigtails and your sharp black eyeliner made you stand out like a sore thumb.

You were little, too. Tomura looked in comparison as you stood at the door, seeing that you were only around the 5' mark on the height scale.

The feeling started going to his brain now. You stepped closer and closer to the store, your pumped boots making you seem all big (even tho ur're small), bad, and mysterious. He worried you were going to walk over to his area, but you made a beeline toward the anime section.

"Hehe weeb."

Tomura didn't want to stand out, so he just stayed put, looking at games he was never going to play. He didn't even read the labels, he merely pretended to so he could observe you. He saw the other losers in the store eyeball you, too. That made him wanna kill them for some reason. He wanted to get a proper look at you, but he didn't want you to know that he was blatantly creeping on you. Even if he just looked at you, you'd probably leave the store like that. After all, he was wearing a black hoodie and the parts of his face that were visible were his rather creepy features. He'd scare you off.

He's planned some pretty crazy missions before, surely he could gather intel on you in your short time in GameStop, right?

He wanted a better look at you, so he switched from the PS area to the T-shirts. He even pretended to do a little "aha" at the shirts to make it seem like he wasn't purposely there so he could see you better. When he could get a solid look, though, he instantly needed to know everything about you.

Goodness, he's a simp, huh? You were just so goshdarn cute. Sure, he saw gothic and alt girls around the mall all the time. You looked a bit silly, though. Your makeup wasn't bad, but it was messy. Your hair could probably use some brushing too. You held a phone that had a case of some anime guy, though he didn't know which one.

"Hehe weeb."

Fuck, you were heading his way. He didn't know if he should leave before you were near him or just stay. You kept your distance anyway, as you were standing very far off to the side. Surely, you weren't able to get a good look at the shirts. He stepped back, hoping that you'd be able to tell he was giving you room. You smiled and said, "thank you," going to step forward.

Now the feeling was going to his nuts.

Now that you were in front of him, he got a nice view of the back of you. Not only could he see up close how small you really were, but he got a great view of your more intimate areas. He could tell from your skirt that you had wide hips and thick thighs, which made him pop a tiny smirk while you weren't looking.

"Grab her."

Oh, come on, not now.

Stupid fucking voices. Though, they had a point. She's small and seems polite enough to manipulate. She's thick but probably isn't that heavy in the grand scheme of things. Alone. And she ain't getting nowhere in those shoes.

While his voice distracted him, you had managed to end up at the registrar with a t-shirt in your hand. Tomura didn't really think as he bolted over behind you, he wasn't ready for you to leave. He already had his game that he had to buy so it wasn't like he was in line for no reason.

The feeling started going into his blood. He felt hot, and it was because of the stupid cashier making jokes with you and being friendly. Your laugh. He could tell it was fake, but you were so warm?

"Pet her hair."

Wow, ok, Tomura thought. Sometimes they'd say very bizarre things. Voices were confusing because he could never tell if they were deep-seated desires of his or if his brain just purposely wanted to fuck him over.

She started to pull out her wallet to pay but ended up dropping something. It landed right at Tomura's feet, so he bent down to grab it. A debit card!

"I'm sorry," you laugh nervously.

Tomura made sure to read your name intently before handing it back to you.

"No worries, hah. Guess I got to be somebody's hero today," he joked. Fuck. That was a bad joke wasn't it?

"That'd be the first time a hero has done anything helpful for me, then, haha."

...!

"That was a jab at heroes, wasn't it?" He thought. Now the feeling was in his chest. Maybe he's running with too little information but that sounded like an "I hate heroes," joke. Oh, now he's really got to know you.

"Yeah, maybe if they got off all those stacks they make they'd actually save a life, huh?"

"Hehe! You get it!"

You were smiling at him. And laughing. But not the fake laugh you gave the cashier. Your cheeks also flushed up as you giggled at his insult to hero society and he even got to see your teeth. Crooked, like his. He felt paralyzed, being able to look at you without sneaking it this time.

"I like your hair," you said to him.

Shit. He didn't even notice his hoodie fell off when he grabbed your card. Hopefully, the shopkeeper didn't know what "Shigaraki" was supposed to look like.

"I don't see many guys with blue hair like yours."

His eyes lit up when you said that. He may have even felt a small blush creep on his cheeks. Tomura knew he had an ugly face, one that made people whisper and steadily move away from him. But you complimented his hair instead of getting creeped out by him. "Really?"

"Yea. I like it a lot. Most people go for dark blue, but your color is prettier."

Pretty?!

He could swear that he can see you flustered. Is he making you blush? He didn't even do anything but have blue hair.

"Sorry, that was weird," you stammer, realizing that the word "pretty" could've offended him.

"Oh, no. You're fine! I like your hair too, the way you styled it is cute," he beams, hoping to earn some flirting points. You flashed him an adorable smile back, so he must've struck a chord.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to interrupt, but there's a line," the cashier says, getting your attention.

"Oh, right."

The way your voice shot down maybe two octaves was so funny to Tomura. You were so bubbly and flustered with him and yet so dry and indifferent with this guy. You were so interesting already. It's a good thing he made sure to remember the name on that card. Your name fits you so well, too.

You paid for your shirt and started leaving the store. Fuck, no! He didn't want you to go just yet.

"Stop her."

"Grab her."

"Tell her she's hot."

"jesus christ shut the fuck up!" Tomura mutters to himself as quiet as he could. He was trying so hard to think of how to get your attention again, but before he could, you had already been no where to be found.

"Stupid short bitch, I'll find you."

He may have thought of that one voluntarily.

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 20) - 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 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 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19

Chapter 20

“Sorry about the clothes,” Spinner says as the two of you walk down the front steps of the hospital. “Himiko picked them out.”

“It’s fine,” you say. As long as you have clothes that aren’t bloodstained and torn to pieces, you don’t care what you look like. You’re just glad to be headed home.

Nobody exited the near-apocalyptic conjurer fight in good shape, but some of you were worse off than the others. Nemuri was almost blasted apart trying to defeat the giant, and although she survived it, collecting the shreds of her essence back together is apparently a slow process. Keigo took a pretty sizeable hit protecting the kids, while Aizawa had to deal with a beastlike Nomu chewing the hell out of his leg before Hizashi blew its head off. But you and Tomura were by far the worse off. You’ve been in the hospital for two days. Tomura will be in for another three at least.

Most ghosts are healthy when they permanently embody themselves, but apparently it’s different for ghosts who use their own conjurers to do it. Tomura is starvation-level thin, with severe contact allergies to almost every type of medical equipment in the hospital, and the injuries he got from the fight and the rescue from the world between were bad enough to land him in the ICU at least temporarily. They had to put him in an induced coma, too. He’s had meltdowns or panic attacks or some kind of fit every time he’s woken up.

“He’ll bounce back quickly,” Mr. Yagi assured you when he came to visit. “I did.”

That was how you learned that Mr. Yagi embodied himself from his conjurer, too – except she gave him permission to do it, when she realized she was going to die of cancer anyway. Mr. Yagi’s permanent embodiment involves chronic issues with his lungs and his stomach, all of which you’re familiar with after working as his assistant for years. Chronic, but manageable. Sometimes over the past two days, it’s seemed like Tomura’s allergic to the entire human world.

Spinner told you that permanent embodiment creates complications, but you didn’t realize just how severe those complications would be. There’s no legal record of Tomura’s existence. He doesn’t have ID or health records or health insurance. There’s no next of kin who’s empowered to make decisions for him while he’s under heavy sedation, dead to the world. Hizashi’s working overtime to forge some kind of documentation for him. The doctors have been hinting that they won’t release him without it. Legally, you don’t have any right to be involved in or updated on Tomura’s medical condition, but he managed to identify you as somebody important before he went under, which means you get a little more information than you would have gotten otherwise. The doctors have been referring to you as his girlfriend. Apparently he called you his human.

Tomura might not have a next of kin, you do, and the doctors called your parents when you were too doped up on painkillers to stop them. You managed to talk them down from coming to visit, mostly by lying and then promising that they can come visit you soon. The last thing you need is for them to come here right now. Things are too chaotic. It’s hard to think that anything normal will ever happen again.

Like today. Jin and Spinner are picking you up from the hospital and driving you home to a house that, for the first time since it was built, doesn’t have a ghost in it.

When you and Spinner make it down the steps, Jin’s idling the van near the curb with Atsuhiro snoozing in the back row. Jin bursts out laughing at the sight of you, ignoring Spinner hissing at him to shut up. “No wonder Himiko wouldn’t let me see what she picked! Ready to get out of here?”

“Yes.” That’s not quite true, though. The sharp pain in your chest as the hospital vanishes around a curve in the highway tells you that you’d rather have stayed until Tomura could come with you.

You’ve been there, the few times they’ve tried waking him up. He’s promptly freaked out each time, and while your presence settles him a bit, the fact that he’s now in a human body, experiencing the world as a human does, is way more than you can calm him down from. Luckily for you and Tomura, the embodied ghosts stepped in to help. Since last night, there’s been one of them stationed in his room at all times, ready to corral him, ready to explain, so nothing else in his hospital room goes up in dust. Tomura lost a lot of his ghostly powers, but he’s still got more than enough left to raise hell.

You don’t want to leave him there. You want to stay there until he wakes up for good, and not leave until you can bring him home. But your health insurance won’t pay for more than the two nights you already spent in the hospital, and you have a bad feeling about who’s going to be on the hook for Tomura’s hospital bill. You have to go home. You’ll be back to visit tomorrow after work, but tonight you have to go home.

“How did he look?” Spinner asks Jin. Spinner came to get you, while Jin brought Magne for her shift in Tomura’s room. “You saw him, right?”

“He looks like hell.”

“He looks like he’s looked the entire time,” Atsuhiro says sleepily from the back row. Then, to you: “They mentioned removing the feeding tube in two days. His body is burning calories rapidly, and if he doesn’t have enough in reserve, he’ll have a heart attack when he starts moving around.”

“Great,” you mumble. “Did he wake up at all?”

“Not perceptibly to the staff,” Atsuhiro says. Ghost stuff. Again. “I was able to tell him that you were being released today.”

You sort of wish Atsuhiro hadn’t done that. Tomura’s going to think you’re leaving him, and based on the conversation you had the day before things went to hell, he didn’t want to embody himself for anything less than a sure thing. You’re a sure thing. About as sure as it gets, given that you were ready to get sucked into the world between along with him rather than let him go. But he’s not going to know that until the two of you talk. And you can’t talk to him while he’s got a feeding tube down his throat.

When you left the neighborhood three nights ago, you left it in the back of an ambulance, so you didn’t get a good look at everything that happened. Now it’s daylight, and what you see isn’t pretty. A weird fog still hovers over everything. Almost every plant on the block is dead, courtesy of being flash-frozen a dozen times over, and the pavement and asphalt on your end of the street is pitted and ruptured and cracked, courtesy of the giant. Nobody’s house escaped getting knocked around a bit, but you know yours took the largest amount of damage – window smashed, porch roof caved in, fence down, yard chewed to bits – so when you get out of the car and make your way closer for a look, you’re expecting the worst.

What you’re not expecting to see is a new fence, in the process of being painted greyish blue. You’re not expecting to see Himiko and a girl you vaguely remember meeting at her birthday party painting it. And you’re definitely not expecting Izuku to pop out of absolutely nowhere, hands smeared with dirt. “Hey, you’re back! Are you okay?”

He waits long enough for you to confirm you’re not about to keel over, then pivots. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“We already told you what happened,” Spinner says. “Don’t bug her.”

“You did tell me! It was great,” Izuku says. He refocuses on you. “But you spent the most time with the conjurer, didn’t you? And you got away from him! How did you do it?”

It occurs to you, sort of suddenly, that you haven’t told anybody exactly what happened. Everybody’s clear on the important details – kidnapped by conjurer, tortured by conjurer with the intent of Nomufication, escaped, rescued by what Jin inexplicably decided to call the Vanguard Action Squad. Nobody’s asked you more until you right now. And you should probably tell somebody, just to get it on the record. “Um, it was –”

“Izuku! Leave her be,” Inko scolds, stepping out onto your front porch. You should have guessed that at least one of Izuku’s parents would be present, but you’re still surprised to see her. “I’m sorry to startle you. We were hoping to be gone by the time you got back so you’d have a quiet house.”

A quiet house. A house without Tomura in it. “It’s okay. Um – why are you here?”

“We’re helping patch things up,” Izuku says. “I’m filling in the footprints in the yard – Toga says there was a huge Nomu here – like, building-sized –”

“Bigger,” Himiko says. She looks over at the other girl, who looks worried. “I didn’t fight that one. I did lots of other fighting.”

“And Toga and Uraraka are fixing the fence,” Izuku continues. You forgot that Himiko picked out a different last name than Jin’s when she embodied herself. You’re not sure why. “Mom was keeping an eye on the guys who came to fix the window and the roof and Dad and Kacchan are in the backyard clearing out your dead plants! There are a lot of them. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.” You step through the gate, barely avoiding putting your hand in wet paint. “The fence looks really nice, Himiko. You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“The old fence matched Tomura’s new hair. We had to fix it,” Himiko explains. “Now it matches his old hair.”

“He has new hair?” Uraraka asks.

“Yeah, it’s white now. He looks like an anime villain,” Spinner says, and Himiko giggles. “I didn’t know your fence was supposed to match your hair.”

“It’s not. That’s why we’re fixing it.”

“Thank you,” you say to Himiko and her friend. “And – thanks, Izuku. I’ll tell you about all the stuff later.”

He beams at you, then goes back to filling in a massive hole in your yard. You thank Spinner and Jin for the ride home, and Atsuhiro for sitting with Tomura, then make your way into your house. The last time you were here, you could barely walk. You were oozing blood everywhere and you were in agony, but you remember seeing Tomura on the porch and stumbling into his arms and feeling for just a moment like everything would be okay. Everything is okay. But just like Aizawa said of you being turned into a Nomu, this came at a cost – and you weren’t the one to pay.

There are a few bloodstains on the front porch steps. You collect some varnish from your hall closet and come back out to paint them over.

“My dear.” Mr. Yagi’s feet appear in your field of vision and you look up at him. He looks miserable, his mouth trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were taken from the parking lot. I knew the conjurer could be near. I knew you were in danger. And instead of ensuring your safety I allowed you to –”

“You weren’t responsible for my safety. I was,” you say. You’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped the conjurer. If he hadn’t grabbed you from the parking lot before work, he would have grabbed you when you went outside on your lunch break or when you headed home. “The bracelets you gave me helped me get away from him. I wouldn’t have escaped without them.”

Mr. Yagi looks surprised. “Is that so?”

“When he noticed them, he broke one. It released all this energy and threw him across the room. That’s how I got out. And me and the ghost who helped me escape used the other one to blow up the building we were in.”

“My master must have known he would break them,” Mr. Yagi says. He smiles slightly, sadly. “She was a master tactician. And speaking of her – I suppose it’s no longer relevant, but I brought over the notes Izuku and I took from her journals, if you’d still like to read them.”

“I’d like to.” You’ll need something to do tonight, when you’re here all alone for the first time. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit together on the steps until the varnish dries and the smell of food begins to drift out of the kitchen. You go to investigate and find that Inko’s turned your kitchen into some kind of industrial cooking facility. “This is for tonight,” she says, gesturing to a pot simmering on your stove. “I’ve made things for the next four days also. The list on the counter is a list of common food sensitivities, in case Tomura picked up anything during his embodiment. And if you have any questions about anything, please call me.”

You feel a lump growing in your throat, making it hard to swallow. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Inko says. She smiles at you. “I would have liked someone to talk to, when it was me.”

You nod a few times, manage to thank her. Then you excuse yourself to the bathroom, so she won’t see you struggling not to cry.

You’re not sure why you’re so miserable, why it’s so hard for you to hold it together as everyone heads home for the evening. The only thing that helps even slightly is when Phantom comes home, brought over by Shinsou and Hizashi, who’ve been keeping an eye on her for you. She’s so happy to see you that she leaps a full three feet off the ground and knocks you over, which hurts. You hug her close even though you can tell she’s dying to zoom ecstatically around the house and look up at Shinsou and Hizashi from the floor. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you.”

“That’s the closest I’m gonna get to getting a dog until I move out. It’s great,” Shinsou says. Aizawa and Eri are committed cat people, but Shinsou’s said multiple times that he likes both. “So you got out of the hospital. Are you, like – good?”

“Great,” you say. It’s a good thing you and Shinsou aren’t ghosts, because if you were, you wouldn’t have a prayer of getting away with the lie. “It’s nice to be home.”

Hizashi nods impatiently as you pick yourself up off the ground and Phantom goes tearing off to inspect the house, Shinsou in hot pursuit. He has a folder tucked under one arm, and he holds it out to you. “Here. ID and birth certificate for him. I’m working on the rest.”

The ID is right on top, complete with a photo. “How’d you get a photo of him?”

“Took it in the hospital. Fixing the background and photoshopping his eyes open was a bitch.” Hizashi looks pretty proud of himself anyway. “I made him the same age as you. He looks it at least. The birthday is an approximation of his summoning date. I couldn’t use his embodiment date. I didn’t want the doctors asking too many questions about how he had the worst birthday ever.”

“Thanks.” You inspect everything a little closer, then nearly drop the folder in shock. “Shigaraki Tomura? You gave him his conjurer’s last name?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Hizashi says. “It flows pretty nicely, right?”

You guess it does, except for the part where you’re going to think of the conjurer every time you use Tomura’s new full name. “Thank you,” you say again, uselessly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t helped.”

Hizashi looks as uncomfortable being thanked by you as you are doing the thanking. “Don’t worry about it. His shit’s a lot easier to forge than the Nomus’.”

Shinsou and Hizashi stick around for a little longer, checking out the repairs and marveling at all the food Inko cooked, then head home. You shut and lock the door behind them, and all at once you’re home alone. Just you and Phantom, like you thought it would be when you bought this place. Phantom is wandering from room to room, greeting you when she passes by but very much looking for something. Looking for Tomura.

“He’ll be home soon,” you promise her. She knows who you’re talking about. She whines. “I miss him, too.”

You feel aimless, and you feel sick. You should probably eat something. You fill a bowl from the pot Inko left on the stove and settle in on the couch to pick at it, staring at nothing if you’re not looking into the bowl itself. It tastes good, but you’ve got no desire to eat it. You eat it anyway. If you’re going to be miserable no matter what, you might as well do it on a full stomach.

Part of you thinks it’s normal to feel wrecked after everything that’s happened. You were kidnapped and tortured. You watched your ghost die in front of you nineteen times. You almost got force-fed a ghost and almost turned into a Nomu and almost watched your house be destroyed and almost killed somebody and almost lost your ghost to the world between. Only a crazy person wouldn’t be upset. But at the same time, it’s a whole lot of almost. It could have been so much worse. It almost was. What is there for you to be upset about?

Your phone rings and you pick it up just for somebody to talk to. It’s your mom. “When I called the hospital they said you’d been discharged today. Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s been a lot. I just got home.” It’s probably not good that your default is to lie to her. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything isn’t,” your mom says severely. “I raised you. I know you. Even over the phone, I know that tone in your voice.”

“How do you know me, Mom? We barely talk. We barely talked even when I was a kid.” You shouldn’t say this. Now’s not the right time to say this, but you’ve started, and you can’t stop yourself. “Everything’s not fine, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you. Not with anybody! The only person I want to talk to about it is Tomura, and he’s –”

In the hospital, in an induced coma, with a feeding tube down his throat that they won’t remove for two more days. Your own throat closes up, and your mom is silent on her end of the line. You brace yourself for her to blow up at you, to talk about how you never let her in, how the distance between the two of you is your fault. Instead: “You must be really worried about Tomura,” she says. “How is he doing?”

“He’s – they think he’ll be out in three days,” you say haltingly. “It’s – it’s worse for him than it was for me. I was healthier to start with. But they said he’ll be home in three days.”

“Are you going to visit him tomorrow?”

“I want to,” you say. “I have to go back to work, too. My boss said he’d give me as much time as I need, but I need to save it for when Tomura’s home.”

“When he’s home,” your mother repeats. “You live together?”

Oops. “Yeah. For a while now.”

“So it’s serious.”

“As serious as it gets,” you say. For a moment you’re overwhelmed by the memory of clinging to his hand as the world between dragged him in, refusing to let go even if it meant you’d be pulled in, too. “I’m – this is it for me, Mom. He’s it. I’m not leaving him.”

“I would never ask you to leave him,” your mom says, surprised. You shouldn’t have said that, should have known that the weight behind it wouldn’t make sense to her. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, once the two of you have recovered from all of this. You still haven’t told me what happened.”

You haven’t told anyone. “It’s hard to explain,” you say. Your phone begins to beep again, signaling an incoming call, and your stomach lurches when you see Magne’s caller ID. “I’m getting a call from the hospital. I have to go. Sorry –”

“Go,” your mom says immediately. “I’ll call back later. I love you.”

You manage to mumble that you love her too, then end the call and accept Magne’s. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”

You hear Magne speaking to someone else, but you can’t hear what she’s saying, and then her voice is there again, right in your ear. “Tomura’s awake,” she says. “They’re trying to sedate him again, but he’s a little upset. You can imagine.”

You can imagine. “Can I talk to him?”

“That’s why I called you, honey.” Magne puts you on speaker, and you hear her voice from a distance. “You’re right by his ear. Go ahead.”

“Tomura,” you say, and you hear a strangled sound. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Nobody there wants to hurt you. They’re just trying to help.”

You imagine him arguing that it hurts anyway. Probably also that it’s not helping, and he still feels like hell. “The sooner you get through this, the sooner you can come home,” you tell him. “That’s where I am right now. Me and Phantom are waiting for you. We’ll be here when you get back. Three days, right?”

“Right,” a doctor confirms from somewhere in the offing. “The wounds are healing well. The nutritional deficiencies are the main concern now.”

“You’ll be home soon,” you promise. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow.”

He’d be protesting if he could talk. Probably saying that he’ll be asleep tomorrow if he lets them sedate him again. “I’ll be there,” you say. “You’re fun to hang out with even when you’re asleep.”

You wonder if he’ll hear what you’re calling back to – all those months ago, when you were trying to keep him out of your bedroom at night. “I love you. I’ll be there tomorrow. Tomura –”

“He’s out,” Magne tells you. She laughs quietly. “We all knew you had him wrapped around your finger, but it’s really something to see in action.”

You close your eyes. “Thanks for sitting with him. It would be harder if you weren’t.”

Magne says something about how it’s not a problem, even though it is, and you thank her again and hang up the phone. You wish you were there with Tomura in the hospital. Even if you can’t talk to him, you can hold his hand. You could get used to the warmth of his skin and the new rhythm of his pulse and the sight of his white hair, before he comes home to you for good. You finish your soup and lift Phantom into your lap. She was with you at the start of all this, before all of this. She’s the only thing right now that feels like home. She lets you hug her and licks your face a few times, and for some stupid reason, that’s when you start to cry.

Well..Tomura come here baby🤌✨

Who is it?💕

Thanks ! ^^

We have to keep pushing

Let's go Tenko/Tomura nation‼️‼️

8th place is insanely well for the first week

Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven’t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.