⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ Are You There Universe?it’s Me, Tomura ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ are you there universe?it’s me, tomura ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

a quick wee fic. can be read as canon or au. reader insert x shigaraki. mostly friendship with a swipe of romantic undertones. you and shiggy get vaguely existential while stoned. gender of reader not mentioned.

ao3

drug use, reference to past abuse, reader has a scar . MDNI.

“Do you think we’re terrible people in every universe?”

Tomura takes the blunt from your outstretched hand. The ruddy glow from the tip is the only source of light that night; the clouds obscure the moon and stars from prying eyes. He hums in consideration at your question, eyes searching the darkness for a possible answer.

There’s a short pause before he finally answers.

“Yes.”

“Oh?” You turn to him. He can’t see your face, but the curiosity is evident in your tone. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs and then hugs his knees to his chest, adjusting his position on the gravely tarmac. “It’s simple, really.” He takes a drag, tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, enjoying the thrum travelling throughout his body.

You grab the blunt back. “Care to elaborate, oh illusive one?”

He tilts his head towards where you sit next to him. The heady smell of weed lingers in the air, and he hopes none of the others smell and ask to join this time. He likes it when it’s just you two.

Kind of loves it, actually.

The tip illuminates as you take another puff. It’s shrivelled down into a roach, and you sigh in disgust as you stub it into the ground. “S’all gone.” He can feel your eyes on him in the darkness still waiting for the explanation.

He stretches his legs out again. “Like I said,” he says through a contented yawn. “It’s simple: I like being a terrible person.”

You laugh, but it’s more like a mix between a scoff and a sigh of disappointment. “You don’t like to believe there’s a universe out there that was kind to us?”

He can hear you shuffle in the dark. He doesn’t need to see you to know you’re lifting your hand to the raised, angry scar across your throat.

“I don’t- it’s not that I don’t want there to be a universe that’s kinder,” he justifies. “It’s just that I’m okay with being considered a terrible person.” You say nothing, so he goes on: “I like getting to be a terrible person with a league of equally terrible people.”

And it’s true, really. He’d like a universe where his dad never laid a finger on him and a universe where his mum and his sister still lived and a universe where he never accidentally killed his own fucking dog-

He’d have never met you, though.

There’s another pause as you ruminate on what he says. He can hear the click of your fingers as you tap them against one another - one of your nervous habits.

“You get real sappy when you’re stoned, you know that?” you finally say.

And also kind of horny, he thinks. But he’s not exactly going to say that to you.

You shuffle closer, the scrape of your trainers the only sound puncturing the silence of the night. You’re almost leaning into him. He can smell the cheap shampoo from your hair, and at that moment it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever smelled in his life.

“Do we get to be terrible together in every universe, then?” You ask, head migrating closer and closer into the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He can feel you smile against his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his torso, pulling yourself further into his side. The clouds finally relent, flooding the earth once again with the light of the moon and the ocean of stars. Your eyes are heavy, and you use your free hand to stifle a yawn.

“I’m okay with being terrible in every universe if I get to be terrible with you, Shiggy”

He stills, and swallows thickly. You couldn’t mean- it wasn’t like you meant-

Surely it was just the weed talking. He looks down to where you lie on his chest, ready to ask what the hell you meant, but your eyes are pressed shut and your chest heaves as sleep gently pulls you under.

He presses the most brief, chaste kiss to your head where it rests on his chest. He pauses briefly to inhale your scent.

“Fine. In every universe, then,” he sighs into the stars. “In every universe.”