Tending to Shigaraki's Wounds in a TACO BELL?!?!! (Not Clickbait)

by appease_the_bees, sad_fat

Summary:

When you haven't seen your favorite customer in a couple of days, you start to get worried. You're even more worried when he comes in covered in cuts and bruises, and you decide to take him into the back to patch him up. It spirals from there and you find yourself falling in love with Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the League of Villains.

 

OR

 

Tomura Shigaraki has a Taco Bell addiction and reader is a very tired worker with an "I can fix him" complex.

Notes:

This fic started off as a joke between the two of us and turned into a 16000 word monstrosity. Please enjoy our love child.

If you don't want to read any sexy bits, stop reading at "His worry and fear wash away, replaced by desire and love." and start again at “I think- I think I love you..."

It’s been a few days since you’ve seen your favorite regular. You don’t know his name, just his order, which he usually came in for every night at around 10 o’clock. You wish you had a way to contact him, maybe send him a little “you okay bro?” text, but again, you only knew him by his order. It was almost like he knew you were thinking about him, because just as your thoughts started to drift the bell rang. You perk up, and then relax a little bit when you notice it was him standing at your counter. You grin. “Long time no see.” He gives you a tired look and that’s when you notice just how beat up he was. “Rough day buddy?”

He squints at you, like he finally notices you were there. His voice is deep and scratchy, his aura nervous and tired. “You could say that.” He reaches up under the hood of the black sweatshirt he was wearing to scratch at his neck, and you notice what look like artist gloves on his hands.

You smile at the regular sympathetically. "I get it. Anyway, what can I get for you? The usual?" 

He looks at you, confused. "You know my order?" 

You nod at him, your smile widening a little at his incredulous expression. "Of course! A classic combo with nachos and a large Baja Blast ™." 

The man looks at you for a moment blankly before the barest hint of a smile tugs at his cracked lips, causing a cut to reopen and bleed slightly, and he huffs out a wheeze of a laugh, "You're weird, but that's completely right." 

Your favorite customer goes to pull his wallet from his back pocket but you stop him. "It's on me today. So long as you let me take you to the back and fix you up." You don’t know why, but you have a feeling he’s not jumping at the opportunity to go to the hospital and get his wounds taken care of. You might as well step in. 

The regular once again gives you a sort of incredulous look, but this time it was laced with something unreadable. An emotion that you couldn’t quite detect. Despite this he nods slowly, replacing the wallet to its carved out spot in his jeans. "Yeah, sure."

You chat as you lead him to the back, but he doesn't say much, just grunts every now and then. Your coworker gives you a weird look. You shake your head at them, hoping your eyes say, ‘Please don't ask and just cover for me.’  

Eventually you make it to the break room and gesture for him to sit down. He does and you go digging for the first aid kit your work was required to provide. You pull it out with a victorious "Ah ha!" and set it on the table, standing in front of the regular. Methodically, you open the box and take out the disinfecting spray and some bandages, looking closer at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes, staring at his feet instead. "Alright buddy, gotta look at me if I'm gonna play doctor."

He looks up at you with intense red eyes. Despite having seen the man nearly every day for months you'd never quite noticed just how bright they were, like Mars in the night sky. You supposed it was due to the man donning a dark hood and bangs in his face a majority of the time.

You gulp and suppress a shiver as his glare bore through you. "I said look at me, not 'look through my soul'. Jeez. Now, show me where you're hurt." The quirk of his lips is back and he nods. He lifts his shirt, revealing a pale chest littered with cuts and bruises and...was that a bullet hole?! You look from the damage to his face and back again in quick succession, trying and failing to hold back your surprise. You were glad you were the one that could feel emotions, and not him. He was feeling… caution. Maybe a little scared. 

Your concern only increases however, and you are worried that if you bring up the severity of his wounds that he would reconsider letting you take care of him. Instead, you get to work cleaning and disinfecting his wounds. When you graze some of the more serious injuries, he hisses above you with a wince. You do your best to avoid skin to skin contact, not really wanting to feel everything he was at the moment. Thankfully, you are quick in taking care of your impromptu patient. 

Eventually you are done, left with a bloody pile of gauze and an almost empty first aid box. You sit across from him, mind racing. What kind of man is this regular? Who is he? You realize, as you had before, that you don’t know his name. You look at him again, and he is still staring into your soul with those bright red eyes. God, they were unnerving. 

"Well, Mr. Classic combo with nachos and a large Baja Blast ™, you're as patched up as you're going to get in the back of a Taco Bell." You pause and, as if an afterthought, introduce yourself. 

He laughs a little at that. "I know, smartass. I can read." He gestures at your name tag and your face gets hot. Amusement radiates off of him.

"Oh. Right. I forget about that sometimes. Usually it's creepy guys that use it to, I don't know, be gross?” You pause, realizing what you’d said, and flail your arms about in dismissal. “Not you though, you're not creepy! Well, maybe a little but I don't think you'd actually like, do anything." He’s staring at you again and you want to die. "Anyways, we should probably get back... I'm still on the clock and you probably want the food you came here for."

He nods and you lead him back to the front. Once again, your co-worker gives you a stare as you lead the man to the counter. "Hey, Teruo. I wanna order something for myself...and make sure you put the employee discount on it!" Your co-worker sighs, but relents as you recite the regular's order to them. Mr. Classic Combo makes his way to the front and you continue to work. When his meal is ready you take it from the line cook on duty without hesitation and deliver it to him by hand. 

Those red eyes are shining more brightly than you'd ever seen them. "Thank you, by the way," he mutters under his breath. 

You smile brightly at him. "Anything for my favorite customer." 

His lips tick up in a barely there smile and he starts to walk away. However, before he walks out of the doors, he turns slightly to look at you over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow." 

You nod. "See you tomorrow."

~

That's how it starts. He comes in the next day while you’re working, and he doesn’t even have to come up to the counter before you’re putting his order in. It’s ready in a matter of minutes, and usually he gets it to go. Today he sits in one of the booths on the far side of the store.

He’s watching you as you work, barely touching his food. You continue about your business, trying not to get distracted by his heavy gaze. It’s particularly hard once he’s finished with his meal. There’s nothing to occupy him then so you’re left to feel the heat of his stare burning into you across the store. Thankfully, he’s far enough away that you can’t feel what he’s feeling. By the time your break rolls around he’s still there, silently assessing you.

Everytime you catch his gaze you expect him to look away, maybe be a little embarrassed. But no. It was actually as though every time your eyes met, the burn got more intense. You can’t take it anymore and after receiving your free shift meal (a CrunchWrap Supreme with hot sauce and extra cheese) you sit down in the booth across from him. 

At that, he does have the grace to look a little surprised, there’s shock coming off of him in waves like he hadn’t watched you make your way across the restaurant to where he sat. You smile at him. “So Mr. Classic Combo, how was your day?” 

He stares at you, eyes a little less burning and more curious, hand playing with his almost empty Baja Blast. He looks down. “Why are you so nice to me?” 

You blink, a little taken aback. “You’re my favorite regular. Also, I can tell when someone is, uh, in need of a little kindness.” He looks back up at you at that. You clear your throat. “My quirk. It’s empathy. I can feel what others are feeling. And you,” you pause to take a bite of your CrunchWrap, “always feel sad. No offense. A lot of people do.” You take another bite and he frowns. 

“Why the hell do you work at a Taco Bell with a Quirk like that?” 

“Taco Bell is temporary. I’m currently putting myself through school, and once I graduate I’ll be a nurse. I’ve always liked helping people.” You rip open another packet of hot sauce and squeeze it onto your meal. His eyes are watching your every move, and a heavy silence hangs between you for a moment. “You never answered my question.” 

“Huh?” 

“I asked how your day was. Besides the past two hours that you’ve been sitting here watching me work. Which, I might add, is creep behavior. I may have to rescind some prior statements.” 

His face turns a little red. He scratches his neck, and you can feel his embarrassment. “It was fine. I played video games. I don’t really do a lot.” 

You nod and finish your wrap, checking the time. Damn. Your break was almost over. You ball up your trash and make to get up, before remembering another reason you wanted to come over here. You sit back down, a curious aura coming from Mr. Classic Combo. You should probably find out his name at some point, huh? You pull out a napkin and the sharpie you always keep on you and write down your phone number, sliding it across the table to him. He stares at it, eyes wide. 

“What is this?” 

“My phone number, dummy. I thought you knew how to read.” 

“That’s not- I meant why?” He gingerly picks it up, inspecting it. 

“Because I want you to text me. You don’t have to, I just thought maybe the next time you needed patching up and I’m not at work. Or if you don’t need patching up and just want to see me not in a Taco Bell uniform… Or…” You trail off, face hot. You aren’t sure if the embarrassment you’re feeling was from him or you. “Anyways, text me. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Regardless, I have to get back to work, so bye.” You slowly back away and watch as he shoves the napkin into his pocket. You get back to work and he leaves shortly after that. Your coworker asks if you know him, and you shrug. “Kind of. He needs help, and I’m going to try and push him in the right direction.” 

He doesn’t text you.

~

It continues on like that for a while. He comes in a little earlier than usual, orders, and sits across the restaurant watching you. Sometimes he comes in before your break, sometimes after. When he comes in before, you sit with him while you eat, talking about other customers you had that day that were weird, or just about your day. Sometimes it’s about your classes and friends, things that happened that made you laugh. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does it’s usually about video games—his favorite being League of Legends. His aura is more comfortable as time goes on, still a little nervous but not as bad as when you first started talking to him. 

You’d almost say that you’re becoming friends, except that you still don’t know his name. He always pays with cash, never uses the app, and never gives his name for the order since he’s usually the only one in the store at that time. 

You had also started reflecting on your relationship with him a little closer. You’re glad he can’t read your emotions, because you know your feelings are bordering on a little more than friendly. He isn’t your usual type—broken people a bit too much for your quirk to handle—but something about him draws you in and makes you want to stay. 

Today, you bring something from home to eat on your break (your stomach can only take so much liquid beef) and you sit in comfortable silence with Classic Combo while you read an article for one of your classes, highlighting lines here and there. He’s playing a game on his phone, muttering every now and then, an annoyed aura coming out of him. You glance up as he slams his phone down and lets out a huff. 

You raise an eyebrow and he looks sheepish. “Sorry. I don’t like when I lose.” 

“You don’t say?” 

“Don’t be mean.” He snaps, though there isn’t any real heat in it.

“I’m not mean, Mr. Classic Combo. Just pointing out the obvious.” 

He grumbles something you can’t make out, feeling something almost like…fondness coming from him. You go back to your paper, the trace of a smile on your lips.

~

The next night, after you get home from working your double shift and smelling like beef and cheese, you turn on the news. You try to stay up to date on current events, but sometimes it’s hard with how much you work. As you putter around your apartment, making dinner and getting ready for bed, you half listen to the TV. That was until a face catches your attention. You scramble to turn up the volume, clutching the remote as the newsperson spoke of an attack that happened not that far from your home. 

“Heroes and police officers are looking for the leader of the League of Villains, a very dangerous man that goes by the name of Shigaraki Tomura.” A picture of him flashes onto the screen and the remote makes a dull thud as it hits the floor. “Police officials ask that if you know or see this man, do not approach, and call the emergency line immediately.” The phone number rolls across the bottom of the screen, but you don’t notice. All you can see are those bright red eyes, the very same eyes that you had gotten used to watching you.

You sit back on your couch, and the only thing going through your mind was an unfiltered chant of ‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck’ . You sit there for a while, until the news program is done, still thinking about what had happened a few weeks ago. And then all the times you casually sat with him while on break. Were you going to be arrested for helping a villain? For eating with him? Was that illegal? Was All Might going to show up at your door and take you straight to jail? It’s not like you knew he was a villain. 

Eventually your mind settles a little as you think of those red eyes, and you get up to make yourself some tea. You know you should probably call the emergency hotline and tell them what you knew. It wasn’t much. In fact, what could you tell them? His Taco Bell order? You sigh and pour the hot water into your mug, stirring in a teaspoon of honey. This will be tomorrow's problem. 

Even as you try to fall asleep, you can’t stop thinking about those burning eyes. Briefly, right before you fall asleep, you wonder if he is thinking about you too. 

~

Everything is murky and you aren’t sure where you are. 

Suddenly everything comes into sharp focus and you are blinded by the midday sun shining overhead. The sky is probably the bluest you’ve ever seen, not a cloud in sight. 

You look down as you feel something tickle your wrist and lift your hand to your face. A honey bee runs across your palm before flying off and landing on one of the thousands of flowers that seemed to surround you. 

Where are you? You live in the middle of a city, there isn’t anything like this anywhere near you. But it is beautiful. 

It’s green, greener than anything you’ve ever seen in your life. The flowers are so abundant that you can’t see the ground. You bend down and pick one. It’s bright red and turns to dust as soon as it is plucked. You reach for another, just for it to do the same. You fall to your knees and start ripping up the flowers by the handful, only for them to all turn to dust. 

You feel yourself crying before you realize you are, all of the flowers turning to dust around you. You slam your hands against the ground, digging your fingers into the soft dirt. You’re now sobbing, tears running down your face and falling to the grass next to your hands. Your body is so overcome with shaking sobs that you don’t notice the ground starting to break open under you until it’s too late and you’re falling. 

It’s dark again and the only thing you can see is a pale hand reaching for you, and two burning red eyes.

You sit up in bed, gasping, hand reaching out in front of you for someone that isn’t there. You slowly lay back down and squeeze your eyes shut, tears running down your face. You don’t normally dream, or at least you don’t remember them. 

You push the blankets off of your legs and get up, going to the kitchen for a glass of water. You roll the cool glass over your forehead, thinking about your dream. You know who’s eyes those are, but why are you dreaming about them? About him ? You drain the glass and set it next to the sink, something to be taken care of in the morning. According to the clock on the stove it’s only 3:38 am, meaning you still have a couple of hours before you have to be up and get ready for class. You stumble back to your room and all but collapse back into your bed, throwing your comforter over yourself and fall asleep quickly. 

This time, you don’t dream.

~

You don’t see him the next day. Nor the day after that. He never texted you, so you don’t even have his number.  This time weeks pass and, despite the revelation that the man you helped in the back of your workplace is a dangerous criminal, your heart ached in worry for him. Had he been found? Was he hurt? Was he dead? You had no way of knowing and the more time that passed the more the latter option seemed possible. You went through the motions at work the best you could but it just wasn’t the same without your favorite scruffy patron. 

You’re cleaning the bathrooms one night when you hear it. A wheeze of a voice in the front of the store. “Could I get a classic combo with nachos and a large Baja Blast ™?” 

The urge to run hits you, but you think better of it. You don’t want to cause a scene and get him caught. Still, you make your way quickly to the front to find him standing there. He’s wearing his usual black hoodie, this time with the bulk of his hair artfully hidden inside, and a black face mask. Despite the minimal disguise, he did a good job at concealing himself.

Cautiously, you approach him. “Hey, Mr. Classic Combo.”

He turns to face you with wide eyes and you can feel your pulse quicken. Fear and surprise radiate off of him. He looks worse for wear, dark circles under his eyes, bangs limply hanging in his face. Scratch marks are visible where you can see his neck. When you look back to his face you can see that he is assessing you just the same as you assessed him, those familiar eyes trailing up and down your body. 

He says your name in a whisper. “Don’t. Not tonight.” It was painful for him to say it, like the words had to be ripped from his mouth. You suddenly want to cry, as his emotions flow over you.

Stubbornly you shake your head trying to hold off any tears. You aren’t going to leave him and have all of your questions go unanswered. You need to talk to him. Unfortunately the environment is a little less than suitable for it, Teruo already looking at you in confusion. You scramble to think of a solution before finally grabbing the hooded man by the wrist—not without a small sound of protest, might you add—and dragging him into the single stall restroom you’d been cleaning.

 You shut the door and lock it behind you, the ‘ Closed for Cleaning’ sign still in place to ensure the two of you won’t be interrupted. You wait a moment, bracing yourself, before turning to face him. He looks at his feet, not unlike the first time you spoke to him, when you first patched him up. You know now that those were probably caused when heroes were trying to detain him. The thought makes your skin prickle, and tears start to well in your eyes.

You take a deep breath in to suppress a shudder before speaking, “I want you to know that I’m not going to turn you in.” His head snaps up and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he can. “I know it’s dumb and I know what you’re capable of I just- I just need answers before I can help you.”

“Help me? Why do you think you can help me ? Why would you even want to?” He pulls down his mask and steps toward you. “You obviously know who I am now…I’m a villain, a murderer. Since the day I developed my quirk I’ve known what it’s like to kill. It’s what these hands were built for. What Sensei wants from me.” His sadness radiates off him in waves like a hopeless, lost child. 

“And why are you targeting All Might? Those high schoolers? What makes that seem like a good idea to you?”

He scoffs, the sadness in him now littered with frustration and anger. “Society as it stands needs to change. Heroes don’t tend to wounds and sit with lonely strangers. They’re corrupt and All Might is the worst of them all. If I got rid of him and those under his influence? I could finally change this world to be a place worth living in.” 

“They are and I agree that things need to change.” You say. “Heroes are corrupt and All Might is certainly a big influence on that. You'd barely be making a dent of a difference doing it like that, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that all sounds like a pipe dream. Rally people, sure. Get others to understand that the system is broken, but you don’t have to kill to do it. Even if it’s all you’ve ever known. Your quirk is so much more than that. You are so much more than that.”

His breath hitches when you say this, and you can tell he is simmering with petulant anger now as he raises his arm, fingers extended. You brace yourself but don't flinch. You know that he won’t hurt you because, beneath all of that anger, he felt the smallest bit of hope. Your lack of response only seemed to aggravate him. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me? I could turn you to a pile of ash without thinking. I’ve done it before to countless others— to strangers—what makes you think you’re so fucking special, huh?” 

You level him with a glare and hot, angry tears start rolling down your cheeks. “I’m not different. You can kill me right here if that’s truly what you want.” You take off one of your gloves and touch his face, his emotions swirling through you. He flinches at the touch. “What I want is for you to tell me the truth. You. Don’t. Like. This. ” Every word is punctuated with a finger jamming into his chest. “You don’t like killing other people and you don’t want to kill me. Even suggesting it made you hurt so much. You’re always so sad and I just,” you grip his shirt with shaking hands, “I just want to see you happy, you idiot!”

He looks at you, dazed, puffs of air leaving his lips in short breaths and dancing across the bridge of your nose. When did the two of you get so close? Before you can come to a conclusion, you pull him into you by his shirt and let your lips meet. A flood of emotions slams into you, the most obvious being surprise followed closely by radiant passion. Behind it all there’s a nagging sting of ice cold fear. 

Shigaraki is stiff against you, lips unmoving, and you’re unsure if it’s that same fear or inexperience. A shudder runs through his body against you. You pull back slightly, desperately wanting him to reach out to you. He pauses, his hands floating above your waist as if he might, but he jerks away like he's been shocked. You let go of his shirt and step back, leaning against the door.

“I can’t,” he says in way of an explanation, “I can’t do that. Not with you. I can’t do that to you.” A sob wracks your body, more as a response to his sadness than anything else, and you hide your face behind your hands. 

You go to speak, to tell him that he’s wrong, but there’s a sudden knock on the door and a voice calling your name. You jolt and let out another sob, wiping your eyes. Shigaraki is staring at you, eyes wide. He pulls his facemask and hood back on and you unlock the door, peeking out. Teruo is standing on the other side. You can feel the concern coming off of him in waves and you pull the door open a little more to expose you and Shigaraki. He looks between the two of you, his concern now evident on his face. You shake your head. “I’m okay, everything is fine. I know it’s closing time, why don’t you go home and I’ll take care of everything else.” 

He opens his mouth to argue or maybe to offer to call the police, and you hold up your hand. “Please, just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Teruo nods, once. “Okay. But…call me if you need me.” He eyes Shigaraki again before leaving. You let the door fall shut with a thud and turn to face him. 

His eyes don’t meet yours and you can’t quite place the intense mix of emotions coming from him. You sigh and slowly move to the sink to look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying and your face is tear stained. It’s a wonder Teruo actually left when you asked him to. You turn on the sink and splash some water on your face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You wipe your face with the shitty Taco Bell bathroom paper towels, catching your own eye in the mirror. 

It’s then, for some reason, that the hilarity of all of this just comes crashing down on you and you let out a laugh. You keep laughing, giggles coming out so hard that your sides hurt and that's when you look up and meet red eyes again. He’s looking at you like you have two heads and you try to contain your laughter. “Sorry, I just-” you let out another giggle, “all of this, is really fuckin’ funny to me. I just kissed a villain, and not just any villain, but the prince of villains, in a Taco Bell bathroom. The very same Taco Bell I happen to work at.” You wipe at your face again. “I’m still mad at you, but we can talk about it later. It’s late and I want to go home.” You gesture to the door. “Go sit out there for a minute and we’ll figure it out, yeah?” 

You don’t look at him again as you leave the bathroom, and make your way around the store, doing whatever closing tasks you have to. You put the bare minimum into it, just what needs to be done so you don’t lose your job, not caring if the opening shift people are mad in the morning. 

Finally you’re done and you take off your uniform, hanging it up in the cubby that was assigned to you. You have your bag and keys in hand, when you see him sitting in his usual booth. He’s watching you again, and he reminds you of a hurt puppy. “Well, are you coming or not?” You have the door open and he bolts up from his seat, next to you in an instant. The doors click shut and with the lock in place, you drop the keys into your bag and start walking home, Shigaraki trailing after you. “You’re acting creepy again, you know. Dark hooded figures that follow people at night aren’t exactly known for good things. It might be better if you walk beside me.” 

He picks up the pace, hands shoved deep into his pockets, now walking beside you. It isn’t a very far walk to your apartment, thankfully, and the weather is nice so you are at your door in a matter of minutes, keys in the lock. You pause, trying to remember how you left it when you left that morning. You get up early to be on campus for your first class and don’t usually come back home until late, after the closing shift at Taco Bell.

The door creaks open and your apartment comes into view, not very messy but still a little embarrassing. You can feel curiosity coming from him, and weariness. You step into your small one bedroom and gesture for him to sit on the couch. He hasn’t said anything since you left the bathroom. Since you kissed him . Your lips burn a little at the memory and you shake it off, moving toward the bathroom. 

It’s like deja vu, digging under the sink for a first aid kit. While still very angry with him, you know he’s hurt, and your need to care for him overtook every other feeling. You push them down and go into the living room, kit in hand. He was sitting on the couch, looking around. Again, the image of a hurt puppy comes to mind and you want to giggle. 

You sit beside him, setting the kit on the coffee table. You reach out to him, slowly, and pull off his mask, then his hood. His eyes are burning into yours as you gently inspect the scratches on his neck and face. They’re deep and look aggravated. “How did this happen?” You ask softly. 

He looks down, eyes no longer on yours. “I…” he cleared his throat, “I itch. It’s… I’ve done it since I was a child.” 

You hum. “Anything else I should know about?” 

He pauses and nods. “My shoulder.”

You let a breath out through your nose and nod. “Can I…?” You gesture toward his shoulder and he seems to get the idea, pulling off his hoodie. Under it is a loose fitting v-neck shirt with a rip through the right shoulder. His arms are wrapped tightly with gauze and there’s a blood soaked bandage on his shoulder. Reaching out, you pull the collar of his shirt down, fingers brushing his skin. Both of you shiver at the slight contact. You frown. “How fresh is this?” 

“It happened last night. Being a villain isn’t all flowers and rainbows.” 

“Yeah, well, no one ever said it was.” You peel back the bandage, and he hisses as the scab comes away with the gauze pad. A little blood leaks out and you try not to wince with him. You get up, grabbing his wrist and the first aid kit. “C’mon, we gotta get this clean.” He trails after you (not that he had much choice) and you sit him down on the closed toilet. You grab a clean washcloth and the saline solution from the first aid kit. You look at him, biting your lip. “One more thing, Mr. Classic Combo,” a surge of surprise comes from him and it almost makes you smile, “we’re going to have to take this to the next level. Take off your shirt.” 

“Wha- huh?”

At that, you giggle. “Sorry, bad joke. I just mean you’re gonna have to take your shirt off so I can properly clean and rebandage this.” 

He swallows and makes quick work of his shirt, pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. 

You try not to stare at him, at his pale chest littered with scars and bruises. You take a deep breath and get to work, spraying the wound with saline and dabbing it dry, pleased when it doesn’t bleed anymore. You do so for all his visible wounds and scratches. The ones on his neck don’t need bandages so you ensure they’re clean and dry, spreading antibacterial cream on them before moving on to his shoulder. You give it another spray and smear more antibacterial cream on it, unwrap a gauze pad and stick it on, making sure it stays in place with medical tape. 

Your fingers run along his arm and inspect the other bandages wrapped around it. “I assume these are clean?” 

“Yes, Kurogiri-” he pauses, as if thinking of what to say, “he takes care of me. He made sure they were as clean as possible.” 

You hum in acknowledgement and step back. “Okay then. Well, that’s done. I’ll look at them again in the morning. Are you hungry? I just realized that I had to close down the store before you could get your Classic Combo with nachos and a large Baja Blast ™ .” 

Shigaraki picks his shirt up and slips it back on, wincing slightly as his right arm goes through the sleeve. You are pretty sure you can hear his stomach rumble as you leave the bathroom, making your way toward the kitchen. 

“I don’t have much by way of fresh groceries… I haven’t been able to go shopping recently.” You dig around in your fridge for a moment while Shigaraki awkwardly stands in your kitchen. “Hmmm, do you like miso soup? I ordered in the other night and still have some left.” You look at him and he nods, a certain warmth coming from him. You smile to yourself and take the container out of the fridge, grab a bowl from the cabinet and dump it in. You place it in the microwave and set it for a few minutes, leaning against the counter. 

“So Mr. Prince of Villains, what do your friends call you? Because I assume we’re at the very least friends, and Mr. Classic Combo, while funny, isn’t a real name.” You search his emotions to try to get a sense for how he’s feeling. It’s a pretty solid mix of confusion and adoration, the latter making you blush. 

“Shigaraki is fine.” He mutters. 

You nod. “Shigaraki it is.” He looks down, a flush on his cheeks. “Hey,” you say softly, and your eyes meet, “sorry about earlier. For kissing you without asking first.” 

“Oh.” His blush deepens and he scratches at his neck, looking away. “It’s okay. I, um. I didn’t mind. I was just surprised,” he sighs, “and I don’t really think I deserve it.”

“I think everyone deserves to be loved. You’re no exception, villain or not.” He looks back up at you, eyes wide and shining. He looks like he wants to speak, but he stands there, floundering. The microwave beeps and you both jump. You’re glad for the interruption, because you just confessed to him, The Prince of Villains. You busy yourself with taking the bowl out and grab a spoon, giving the soup a stir, setting it on the counter in front of him. “I’m going to go get ready for bed. Eat your soup, stay right there, I’m going to grab a spare futon.” 

He gives the soup an experimental taste, and you can feel warmth bloom through your chest. You think it’s from him, but you’re not sure. You go into your bedroom and change into pajamas, get the futon from your closet, and toss it onto the couch along with a spare blanket and a pillow as you make your way into the bathroom. You close the door and look at yourself in the mirror. It's been a long day, and you’re ready for it to be over. Mechanically going through your nighttime routine, you finish quickly, wanting to just go to bed. 

As you’re brushing your teeth you think you hear a noise and open the door, peaking out. Not seeing anything weird, but you finish up and exit the bathroom, making your way into the kitchen. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t an empty bowl in your sink and no Shigaraki to be found. Huffing, you go through the apartment, but he’s not there, and must have left while you were brushing your teeth. You want to feel angry, but you understand.

Silently, you trudge to your bedroom and flop into bed. Today was a lot and, despite everything, you just wanted to sleep. You let yourself get comfortable beneath the covers and go to check your phone one last time before drifting off.

There’s a text from an unknown number: ‘Thanks for everything. Goodnight.'

~

 You start to see him more and more again after that. Not just at work, though. Some days you’ll come home from class or work to find him sitting against the wall outside of your apartment, oftentimes with new cuts and scrapes for you to tend to. It's become almost routine for the two of you. When you're not tending to him, the two of you will play video games or talk. Well, mostly you talk. He doesn’t usually have a lot to say.

Neither of you bring up the kiss. You can feel the awkwardness that it's left behind, though—literally. It’s more than that though. Despite the awkwardness, Shigaraki has been more open. Conversations between the two of you have even gotten as deep as discussing your emotions. He’s different. Not changed per say, still the same sardonic asshole he’s been since you first met, but now there’s a layer of fondness and friendship attached to it. At least, you consider it friendship. You’d told him so to his face not that long ago, but you’re still not sure what he thinks. 

You haven’t seen him yet today, which is odd. Usually on Mondays he comes in to order a Baja Blast ™ Freeze to drink while he scrolls through new manga releases. You’re contemplating bombarding him with texts when you walk through the door to your apartment. When you enter though, you’re hit with the smell of curry spice and the wave of a familiar emotional aura. You drop your things and rush further into your apartment to find Shigaraki in your kitchen, unloading a bag of take out on the counter. 

Your jaw goes slack. “Honey, I’m home,” you say, sarcastically. The man turns around to face you with a shit eating grin and you huff, “How the fuck did you get into my house, you creep?!”

He snorts to himself and reaches into his back pocket, retrieving and holding up the keys to your apartment. The Ganriki Neko keychain you had gotten for your birthday last year jingles in the air as he shakes them, taunting you. “You dropped these while we were together the other day. I was going to give them back to you right away, but breaking and entering sounded a lot more fun.”

You stomp up to him and snatch the keys back. “Asshole! I thought I lost them!” You’ve been using your spare keys for the past few days, worried some weirdo found your others. Turns out you were right, you just didn’t have to worry about this one.

“Nope,” he smirks, “I just borrowed ‘em.”

You roll your eyes, shifting your attention to the take out bag and its contents. “And you're cheating on me with another food service worker? Not very plus ultra of you, Shiggy.”

The man sputters, choking on air. You smirk, but it’s wiped off of your face by his emotions. If there’s one thing you hate about your quirk, it’s that it makes pining after this man horrendous. You know that he likes you back, if the longing coursing through him is anything to go by. You want him to be ready, but he’s just not there yet. He’s the one that has to make the next move, you have decided. Because while you are ready to welcome him with open arms, you don’t want to scare him away.

“Am I wha- are you- are we?” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “No,” he finally croaks, “I just wanted to do something for you for once and so I thought we could eat this garbage and watch one of those stupid Ghibli movies you like so much.”

You look at him, unimpressed, knowing he likes them just as much as you do. Regardless, you nod and the two of you sit on your couch and put on Howl's Moving Castle up. You sit there in relative silence, eating. Every now and then you’ll glance over at him as a rush of his emotions comes over you, and he’ll be mouthing along with the movie. You smile to yourself, resisting the urge to reach over and intertwine your fingers. 

You notice, however, Shigaraki slowly inching his hand toward yours. A few of his fingers are gently raised as he nudges his pinky against yours. You glance at him and your smile gets bigger. He’s not looking at you, and he’s radiating the most nervous energy you’ve ever felt in your life. Gently, you wrap your pinky around his. The small gesture manages to break his attention away from the movie. He looks at you, jumping a little when he sees you’re already looking back at him. He closes his eyes, lips parted ever so slightly, and face red. 

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out nervously. 

You let out a laugh at his awkwardness. He could break into your apartment just fine, but got so shy about the emotional things. 

You nod and take his face in your hands. “Of course you can.”

He swallows hard and, with his eyes still squeezed shut, leans in. 

His lips are just as cracked as the first time and he is just as stiff, but you don’t really expect anything different. It’s him and you love it. You love him . You work your lips against his, trying to get him to relax into you and, eventually, his move right back. It’s not anything earth shattering, not some kind of dance that only you know the rhythm to like shoujo manga might lead you to believe. It’s alright, though. It’s only the man’s second kiss, as far as you know.

You let one of your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your fingers running through the fine hair there, and guide his clumsy kisses. Eventually, the two of you pull back for air. He’s still flushed, his pupils blown wide and breaths coming in shallow. 

“Is-Was that good?” 

“It was. Could be better though…do you want to practice a little more?” You ask flirtatiously and try not to laugh at the way he enthusiastically nods in response. 

The movie ends, forgotten, as you two spend the rest of the evening making out on your couch like a couple of horny teenagers. It’s cute, and while you can still feel his nervousness, it slowly ebbs away into something darker, something deeper. 

At some point, you get up to get water (making out is thirsty business) and check the clock. It was almost 1 am, and you had to be up in six hours to get ready for class. You hand him a glass and he takes it, murmuring a small thanks. 

“As much as I’ve been enjoying this, I do have to be up in a few hours for class.” Disappointment tinges the air and you feel kind of bad. “But,” you continue, “if you want, you can stay over. With me. In my bed. Only if you want to though! No pressure.” 

Excitement quickly overtakes the disappointment, and you’re pretty sure he’s vibrating a little. 

“Yes! I mean, sure. Yeah, that sounds… nice.” 

You smile. “Okay. Let's get ready for bed then.” It’s oddly domestic, and your heart swells as the two of you go through your nighttime routine. Luckily you have a spare toothbrush and dig it out for him. He goes into your room to change into a pair of your sweatpants and you stare at the two toothbrushes next to each other in the cup. Yours blue, his red. 

You make your way to your room, already in pjs, and Shigaraki is sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for you. “Hey.” 

He smiles and you feel something like relief from him. “Hey. I wasn’t sure if I should, um. Get in.” He swallows. 

“Oh! That’s fine.” You walk over to the side of the bed you usually sleep on, suddenly glad you changed the sheets only a day ago. You slide in under the comforter and pat the space next to you. He’s there in a flash and you’re laughing, reaching over to turn off the lamp. The room is bathed in darkness and he’s nervous again. You are too. Is this too much? He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be, right? 

You decide to bite the bullet and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stiffens for just a moment before relaxing into your hold, his pure joy thrumming through you. The feeling is like an extra blanket draped over the pair of you. You kiss his temple. “Goodnight, Shigaraki.” You murmur sleepily. 

“Tomura.” He whispers. “Call me Tomura.” 

 “Goodnight, Tomura.” 

~

You wake up earlier than usual, the sun not yet breaking through your window, to movement beside you. You groan and slowly open your eyes. Tomura is sliding out of bed and pauses when he realizes you’re awake. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later.” 

You groan again, wanting to argue, but then he’s leaning over and pressing his lips to your forehead. The warmth of love washes over you, and you sink back into sleep, content. 

~ 

That had been a few weeks ago. Since then, he would come over when you got out of work once or twice a week with takeout in hand, a devious smile on his face. He’d pull you in for a kiss and then come in. Sometimes the takeout would go cold as you made out on the couch, other times you’d eat and watch a movie, but it was usually forgotten, as hands found hands and then lips found lips. 

He was almost insatiable, touch starved, and usually the one that initiated the make out sessions. Sometimes it got hot and heavy, with one on top of the other, hands slipping under shirts, but never really more than that. 

You want to wait until he’s ready, and you could still feel a little nervousness from him when he touched you, like he was afraid he was going to break you. You also know he doesn’t have very much experience, and want to take it slow with him. So that’s all it really was, making out on the couch like teenagers and some heavy petting. 

Sometimes you’d make it to your bedroom, but the kissing was never as intense, maybe because of the implication of the bed. He slept over a few nights a week, had started leaving clothes behind so that he didn’t have to wear your sweatpants or his jeans to bed, but always left before your first alarm went off, probably to do villain things. 

Things with Tomura were starting to become more… domestic. You were kind of dating, but he wasn’t officially your boyfriend. You hadn’t really had that talk yet, but you liked what you had, and didn’t want to scare him off by trying to put a label on it. Maybe someday, if he didn’t get arrested for being a villain. 

~

When you wake up today, it’s to the shrill sound of your alarm. You roll over, turn it off, wanting to just go back into the wonderful dream you were having. Eventually you get up and get ready for the day, smiling when you see the red toothbrush next to yours. You send Tomura a picture of your outfit, along with a text that says “Can’t wait to see you again :)”. 

You leave for campus around 7:30, excited because your afternoon class got canceled and you aren’t scheduled for a shift for the first time in a few weeks. It means you can just go home and relax, maybe do laundry and some grocery shopping.

Class was boring, but it was over quickly, and by 11am you’re on your way home. Luckily the street isn’t very busy and you’re easily able to get on your train. You have earbuds in and aren’t paying attention because there are only a few other people in the car. At the next stop, a few more people get on and you’re starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all the emotions, so you move as far away from everyone as you can. It helps only a little but you don’t have very much longer until the stop for your apartment. You feel more than see somebody getting a little too close for comfort and look up to meet bright red eyes. 

You’re only confused for a moment before familiarity rushes through you, along with excitement and… you’re pretty sure love. “Tomura?”

He’s got a mask covering the lower half of his face and his hood is pulled up, his hair hidden, but you can tell he’s giving you a shit eating grin. “Hey.” 

You look around, trying to see if anyone has noticed him. He’s still a very wanted criminal afterall. “Are you stalking me?” 

“Technically, yes.”

“Don’t you have more important, villainy things to do?” 

He shrugs. “Why would I do that when I could be seeing the Baja to my Blast?” 

“Dork.” You giggle. “Okay, but why are you here? You could’ve just texted me or waited at my apartment.” 

“Well, maybe I have something planned for once.” 

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“How,” he lowers his voice and leans in slightly, “would you like to meet the League of Villains?” 

You suck in a breath. “What?”

“You know, my…” he pauses, searching for the right word. “My coworkers. One could even say friends.” 

You squint at him. “Aren’t they… dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than me.” 

“Than isn’t very comforting. You could still very easily kill me if you wanted.” A little bit of hurt comes over you and you realize you said the wrong thing. You reach for him and wrap your hand around his wrist. You wish you could really know what’s going on in his mind. “I know you wouldn’t. But you can understand my worry.” 

He nods. “I do. I promise they’ll behave. I’ll make them.” You can see it in his eyes when Tomura smiles at you and it takes everything in you not to pull his mask down and kiss him.

“Okay. Let’s go.” 

He pulls you off the train at the next stop, leading you through streets and alleys, until you come to a stop in front of what seems to be an abandoned building. 

“This is where you live?” 

“Yeah. I know it’s not much, but Sensei has us in hiding. Not much of a palace for the Prince of Villains, huh?” 

“It fits you, I think.” 

“Thanks.” Before he goes in, he pulls something out of his pocket and turns to you. You nearly collide with him, not expecting him to stop. He suddenly feels extremely nervous and you reach out to him. 

“Are you that nervous about me meeting your friends?” 

Tomura gives you a questioning look. “No, it’s…someone else I want you to meet.” 

“Okay? Someone, somewhere else?” 

He swallows and holds out a hand with a… hand in it? “This is my father.”

“ What ?” 

“It's the hand of my father. Sensei gave it to me. You watch the news, you’ve seen my villain costume.”
“I thought it was fake! Who the fuck is your sensei?” 

“I can’t tell you, so don’t ask.” He places the hand over his face, eyes peeking out from between the fingers. 

“Tomura, I have so many more questions.”

“Ask later.” He doesn’t give you any time to process before he pushes the door open, bringing you into a dark, dingy space. “Hello?” He calls and a figure appears behind the bar. You startle.
“Ah, Tomura Shigaraki. And I see you’ve brought a guest.” 

Smiling brightly, you introduce yourself. “I’m his… friend.” You want to say partner, but you weren’t sure if you were there yet or if he even wanted that. It would be a talk for another day. 

“Kurogiri, this is the person I’ve told you so much about. The person who’s been… helping me.” 

You think Kurogiri is studying you, but it's kind of hard to tell. Just then, a blonde schoolgirl skips out from behind the curtain hanging next to the bar, pausing when she sees you. “Hey, boss! Who's this cutie?” 

Tomura gives her a sharp look but before he can say anything, several more people enter the room, all staring you down. There’s an overwhelming feeling of curiosity. Nothing necessarily bad, but it’s still a lot. 

He goes around the room and introduces you to each member. You know most of them from the news, but it’s still nice to be formally introduced. 

Some of them, like Toga and Twice, smile at you, while others, like Dabi and Spinner, give you unimpressed looks. Dabi in particular seems unenthused. He eyes you with a faint sneer. "I thought we weren't bringing outsiders into this, handjob. They sure look like an outsider to me."

You put your hands up placatingly. "I haven't even been here for a minute and I'm already causing trouble. Looks like I've set a new record." The scarred man just rolls his eyes in your direction. You take off a glove and extend your hand to him. Maybe if you get a better read on the folks in here you could get to know them easier, help them even. He takes your extended hand warily and you immediately feel vengeful, burning resentment so intense you drop the appendage. You gasp, as the hatred simmers in your chest, less intense because you’re no longer touching him. Tomura is by your side in an instant, hand on your back, a few fingers raised. 

You feel the atmosphere shift as everyone watches this interaction. Dabi tilts his head at you. “Who are you, exactly?” 

Tomura glares at them and you squeeze his arm, trying to tell him it’s okay. “I’m nobody special.” 

At that moment, the door flies open and a man in a mask walks in. Or, more accurately, staggers in. Everyone turns to look at him, surprise and concern rushing over you. Before you know it, your body is moving on its own, and you’re catching the man as he starts to fall. He’s heavy and you stagger under the weight of him, but then others are coming to your side, helping you lift him. They place him on the bar and he groans. There’s blood on him, and you’re not sure where it’s coming from, or if it’s all his. 

Your nurse training kicks in and you pull off his white mask and outer layers of his villain costume, trying to see if you can tell where he’s hurt. The others are standing around in shock. You turn to Tomura. “I need a first aid kit. Or all the first aid supplies you have in this building, right now!” Your tone is harsher than you meant for it to be, but currently you have a man bleeding out in front of you, and you can apologize for it later. 

Kurogiri is the one who supplies them, a warp gate opening and all but dumping a random assortment of medical supplies onto the bar. You finally find the source of the bleeding. It’s a slash in his side, about half a foot long. You press a clean towel to it for a few minutes, thinking. “This will probably need stitches.” Gently, you peel the towel away from his wound. It doesn’t look great, but it has stopped bleeding as much. 

Digging through the supplies that Kurogiri gave you, you find everything you need to stitch him up, make sure it was clean, and then keep it clean. 

The League was talking behind you, watching you flutter about, but they didn’t try to stop you. Tomura was probably keeping them at bay, which you’re grateful for. You need some space to work.

You get right into it, cleaning, disinfecting, and finally stitching. At this point it was second nature to you, what with all the times you've patched up Tomura. Stepping back to observe your work, you find that you're covered in blood and everything around you was a mess, but you did as good of a job as you could given the circumstances. 

"I'd say to get that checked out by a doctor, but I'm guessing that's not really an option." You reach into the pile of supplies and hand Compress a bottle of pain medication. "Just take two of these every six hours and let To—Shigaraki know if things don't get better and I'll come to help you out again." 

Compress, a little less pale than he was when he came in, nods with a wince. "Thank you, my dear. I'll live to see the stage another day." 

~ 

Tomura showed you to a bathroom and gave you a shirt to change into. The shirt you had been wearing was soaked in blood, and he made a weird comment about making sure to keep it away from Toga. 

Soon enough, you’re back in front of everyone in one of Tomura’s black shirts, and the uncertainty of the group is gone, replaced with admiration. Not trust, you weren’t there yet, but you no longer felt on edge. You settle into a spot at the bar, Tomura right next to you, while the League—minus Mr. Compress who was sent somewhere in the back of the building to recover— gathers in the room and continues to question you. 

“How did you two meet?” Dabi asks, staring you down. 

You glance at Tomura, unsure of how much he wants to reveal.

He leans forward. “Why is that important?” 

“I guess it’s not, I just wanna know what they did to make you so…” He trails off at Tomura’s glare. “Calm.” He finishes with a smirk. 

Toga speaks up then. You can still feel a weird kind of hunger from her that had started when Compress came stumbling through the door. “How did you know what to do for Mr. Compress?” 

You smile at her. “I’m in school to be a nurse.” 

“Is that how you met handy?” Dabi chimes in, Tomura twitching at the nickname.

“Kind of. There’s more to it, but yes. I patch him up when he needs it.”
“What else do you do when he needs it?” 

Your face burns at his insinuation and you go to respond, not quite sure what to say. 

Tomura answers for you, a murderous look on his face. “It’s not like that, and I won’t have you talking to them like that. Understood?” 

Dabi holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll, oh great leader. I was just trying to understand the relationship here.” Although he seemed calm outwardly, there is a sharp uptick in panic around the room. 

You’re not sure if you should try and comfort Tomura, since he seems to have a different persona while in front of his ‘coworkers’. You ponder this for a moment. 

While you’re thinking, the conversation moves on, mostly Toga and Twice asking questions now. 

“What’s their quirk?” This snaps you out of your head. 

“Oh! I’m an empath. Basically I can feel emotions.” You lift your now ungloved hand. “If I make skin contact the emotions get stronger and more detailed.” Dabi narrows his eyes at you. 

“You do that without permission a lot?” He grunts, body tense.

You laugh nervously and shake your head. “I thought it might help me get to know you better. I apologize for invading your privacy like that.”

Toga bounds up to you, excitement dripping from her. “Oh! What’s everyone feeling right now?” 

You look around and everyone is a little more on edge than before. “I can’t say, I’ve already made someone uncomfortable,” you offer your hand to her, “I can let everyone know what you’re feeling though!” 

She’s quick to nod and grab onto your hand, bouncing where she stands. Obviously she’s excited, but she’s also incredibly curious and a little in awe. It’s very endearing to have someone so interested in your quirk. There’s also the same simmering hunger that you felt before, except you can now feel that it’s really desire and infatuation. It’s not romantic, which is why it probably didn’t register before. You relay the information back to her, watching as her eyes grow wide in amazement—and subsequently telling her that you can feel that amazement in her. 

“Wow! I didn’t even know some of that. You’re like a human mood ring!” She giggles and points at Twice. “You’re next!” 

He steps up, unsure. You give him a reassuring smile. It was already hard to get a simple reading off of him, you were kind of curious to see what his emotions would be like. He takes off a glove and you take his hand in yours. 

Immediately you’re overwhelmed with emotions and feelings. It feels like your head is spliting in half, the emotions swirling through you trying to burst through your skull. Everything was contradicting, nothing made sense, like a kind of internal battle. You cry out and release his hand. The room seems to get darker and you think Tomura is saying your name. You try to respond but then the world goes black. 

~

When you wake up, it’s only been a few minutes. Before, you were seated at the bar, but now you sit up in…a bed? You rub your hands over your eyes as they adjust to the dim lighting. The door opens and Tomura walks in, a bottle of water and a cold, damp washcloth in hand. He had taken the hand off of his face, which you’re grateful for.

Tomura quickly makes his way to your side and sits on the edge of the bed. “What was that?” He asks quietly. 

“What do you mean?” 

He hands you the water bottle and you gladly take it, hand brushing his. Concern and worry bursts through you, and you frown.

“You passed out after touching Twice.” 

“Oh. It’s probably my quirk's drawback. When someone’s emotions are too much… It can overwhelm me. That’s usually why I try to avoid skin to skin contact. Like with Dabi, earlier. His hatred was so strong that it felt like he was burning me.” You take a drink. 

He nods, not looking at you. “I’m sorry that happened. Twice can be a lot, regardless of quirk.” 

You hum and take the washcloth from him, wiping your face. “Tomura.” He looks at you. “Where are we?”

“My room. I, uh, carried you here after you passed out at the bar. Figured you wouldn’t want them gawking at you.” 

“Thank you.” You shift so that you’re sitting up more and reach out to him. He melts into your touch, turning and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his face into your neck. You are a little startled by the affection. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. It happens sometimes.” 

“You just- I was scared. I didn’t know what had happened.” He moves back so that he’s looking at your face, his hands rest on your waist, fingers raised. You cup his cheek and realize he’s shaking a little. 

“Tomura. I’m fine. I promise. Just overwhelmed. I’ll recover.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “We just won’t have Twice touching you again.” You think there’s a pang of jealousy in that, his grip tightening. You push his hair away from his face, running your fingers through it. Your hand comes to rest on the back of his neck. He shudders. “More.” 

You smile and kiss him on the forehead. He leans into it like a cat, longing washing through him. Slowly, you trail your lips down his face to the kiss side of his mouth. A puff of breath escapes him with a hushed whimper and he moves so that his lips meet yours. He kisses you harshly, feeling almost like he was trying to pull you into him. You kiss him back, matching his need.

You moan into his mouth and it only encourages him. He’s pressing you back so that you’re laying down again and he’s crawling over you. He pulls back slightly, so that your lips are almost touching, but not quite. One hand trails up your side while the other stays on your waist, like he’s trying to keep you in place. You’re both panting and you use the hand on the back of his head to pull him back down for another kiss. You nip at his bottom lip and he groans.

You’re like that for a while, kissing, small touches here and there. All of his emotions are flowing through you, but it’s not overwhelming, not like Dabi or Twice. It’s perfect, because it’s him , and your own emotions are more or less the same. The desire and lust start to overtake everything else, and that is almost too much, so you pull back slightly, a string of saliva connecting your lips. 

He sits back and looks at you, pupils blown wide, face flushed. He swallows. “Sorry I just- When I think about anyone else…” He pauses. “Anyone else touching you, it makes me feel…bad. Makes me want to dust them. Destroy them, so they don’t have the chance- so they can’t even think about you.” His hands squeeze your waist. 

“Tomura,” you say gently, almost teasing but not quite, “are you jealous ?” 

He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I just don’t think that any of them are good enough to touch you. I don’t think I’m good enough. In fact I know I’m evil and rotten and you’re so good and I just- I don’t feel like I deserve you- and I have this fear that you’re going to see that and leave me.”

“I know,” you say. “I know, and I get it. But I promise I’m not going anywhere, not unless you want me to.” Tomura shakes his head, his fear spiking through you, and you pull him down into another sweet kiss. His worry and fear wash away, replaced by desire and love. 

Your mouths work together lazily, no longer frantic. You want to show him that he has all the time he could ask for with you. Your lips start to move to his jaw, working the skin there between your teeth. Tomura moans above you, his hips grinding against yours. You smile against his neck, kissing the spot and receiving a shudder. 

“Are you sensitive there, sweetheart?” You coo and a sound of embarrassment leaves the back of Tomura’s throat. “It’s okay. I have sensitive spots too, but I’ll show you those another time. Right now, I want to find yours...” You pause, thinking for a moment. 

You’ve never talked about him having past relationships and you’d assumed that your first kiss together was the first he’d ever had, but you still weren’t sure. You’d kissed plenty of times since then, even gotten a little heavy handed. The two of you haven’t gotten this far though. 

You look up into his eyes. “Can I touch you, Tomura?” His breath hitches and you feel his arousal grow, both physically and emotionally. 

“Fuck, please .” He breathes. 

You don’t waste any time, flipping the two of you over and letting your hands trail down his sides and between his thighs. He groans as you stroke him above his jeans, easing him into the sensation of your hands. The simple touch has him trembling and you use your other hand to rub at his side comfortingly. Each pass of your hand over his cock you tease closer and closer to the waist of his jeans until you finally undo his pants and work him under his boxers. 

His hips stutter, clumsily fucking into your touch. “Oh shit,” he keens, “your hands are so warm. So good.” His back arches, his pleasure and your own swirl low in your gut. 

“Good,” you smile. You take a moment to settle yourself between his thighs and tug his pants down under his balls, freeing his cock to the air of the room. A bead of precum drools from the flushed tip and you chase after it with your tongue, licking up the side. Tomura moans at the contact as his hips buck again. You hold his hips down and trail kisses down and back up his shaft. 

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” You ask, punctuated by a sloppy kiss to the head of his cock.

He nods and warily grabs a fistful of your hair. “Yes,” he whines, “Just- please, suck my dick. Fucking please. ”

His voice breaks and, well, how could you refuse him like that? When you wrap your lips around him, his grip tightens in your hair and he thankfully doesn’t pull you down further. 

You have full control as you finally sink down, running your tongue along a vein on the underside of his shaft. You look up at him through your lashes when you reach the base. His face is flushed and his eyes are rolled back in pure bliss. 

You pick up speed then, hollowing your cheeks and letting the head of his cock tease the back of your throat. You can feel his hips twitching upward beneath your hands, desperately trying to buck into the heat. 

"Fuck, 'm close. Should, hnnng, can I cum in your mouth?" He stutters and he opens his eyes to look down at you, making eye contact while you nod back and swallow around him. You feel his arousal spike. 

" Shit . Please don’t stop. Please. Gonna cum." He's panting now, the hand in your hair moving down to hold your face. He cums like that, looking down at you as warm ropes of cum fill your mouth. You swallow the bitter fluid and pull off of him with a hum. He sits up and kisses you, not caring that he just came in your mouth. 

“I think- I think I love you. And I’m not just saying that because you just sucked my dick, but I thought maybe I should say it.” 

You kiss him again, laughing a little. “I know. I was waiting for you to say it, but I know. I could feel it, remember? Empath?” He looks alarmed, and sputters for a moment, covering his face in his hands. You pull them away. “Tomura. Look at me.” He does. “I love you too.” Pure happiness floods through him and you kiss again.

~

Later, after the two of you had basked in the afterglow of a blowjob and love confessions, it was time for you to go home. You wanted to stay, but it was getting late and you had class in the morning. There was one thing nagging at you though. As you sit on the edge of his bed, pulling on your shoes, you look at him. “Tomura?” 

He makes a noise in response. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Is it about the hands or my sensei?” His tone is harsh, like he’s telling you ‘don’t ask, please don’t ask’. You shake your head. 

“No, it’s about…us.” You fidget with the hem of the shirt you were wearing (his shirt, you remember). “What…what are we?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean- well, do you want us to be together… officially?” You wait a beat, not looking at him. He’s silent, and there’s a wave of confusion from him that makes you look up. 

He’s frowning, brows knit together. “I don’t…know.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s okay. I was just wondering. We don’t have to decide right this minute but, well. We don’t even have to be anything official, I’m happy to carry on as we have, but…” You trail off. Again, you know that all of this is new to him, and aren’t trying to scare him off. “Think about it. We can talk about this again later, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You get up and make your way towards his door. He reaches out to you before you can open it, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You can’t quite make out all his emotions, they’re swirling a little too much, but you can sense love and uncertainty. “Let’s go.” He nods and follows you out, pausing only to put his ‘Father’ over his face, and you make it all the way to the bar before you run into one of the other League members. It’s Dabi, he’s sitting at the bar drinking what looks like whiskey. 

He raises an eyebrow at the two of you, more specifically at Tomura. His lips quirk up in amusement. “I didn’t know you knew how to say please, boss.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, rage and embarrassment seeping off Tomura. Then you start to giggle and both men turn to look at you. “Sorry, but-,” you laugh a little harder, “He’s right, I don’t think I’ve heard you say please before either.” Dabi is staring at you with a strange look in his eyes, and Tomura’s rage calms down a little. He still turns back to Dabi and makes as if to grab him, but Dabi jumps away, a smirk on his face. 

“Gotta be quicker than that, handy. I’ll see you guys later.” He goes to leave, pausing once more to look back at you. “Oh and maybe next time, you can teach me how to say please.” Dabi winks at you before he leaves the bar, laughing as Tomura is all but foaming at the mouth. 

“Tomura,” you say, “calm down. He didn’t mean it.” 

He huffs and helps you over the bar. “I still don’t like it.” 

“I know. He was just trying to push your buttons.” 

Tomura grumbles, trading his ‘Father’ for a face mask, and you leave the bar. He doesn’t walk you all the way home, just to the train station, but he gives you a quick kiss before sending you off. The train is empty and you’re home before long, ready for bed. 

As you settle in, you plug in your phone and send Tomura a simple “Got home safe, goodnight <3” text, before quickly falling asleep. 

~

The next couple of days contain radio silence from Tomura. You've sent him a few texts with updates but none have been read. That's fine, you know things are a little complicated for the League. Besides, you haven't really had the time to talk, work and class keeping you busy. So busy that you haven’t really been able to check any social media. 

It isn’t until after your shift at Taco Bell you even realize something happened. Or was happening, as it were. The street isn’t crowded but did have more people than usual for after your shift. You start to make your way home, but there’s a crowd forming around a TV screen. You grumble to yourself, just wanting to get home, and go to continue your way home, but you come to a halt when the TV catches your eye.

You watch, realizing it's a press conference with teachers from UA. Did something else happen to those students ? You think, a bad feeling twisting in your gut. The heroes on screen explain what happened, that a student named Bakugo Katsuki had been taken by the League of Villains, and they are apologizing for something. Your hearing cuts out after that, fear and despair crashing over you. It must be from the crowd because what you're feeling is anger. You step away and pull out your phone, staring at his contact. Hand shaking, you dial his number and press your phone to your ear. 

It doesn’t ring, dial tones replaced with the sound of “The number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected-” you hang up, hot tears running down your face. What have they done ?

Slowly, almost robotically, you make your way back to the crowd. The press is going wild on screen, and the people on the street are feeling hostile, the emotions so strong that you start to feel dizzy. The general mood starts to shift from bad to worse, and you gasp, more tears running down your face. You try to wipe them away as fast as they fall, but it’s hard, so you do your best to just focus on the screen. It goes on like that for a while, the press asking questions and the teachers trying to convince them that it will be fine, that they are doing everything in their power to get him back. 

The news goes on to the regular late night program and you turn to leave, but by that point the crowd is so dense that you can’t , and so you stand helplessly in the ocean of bodies and their emotions. 

The feed cuts away then to what seems to be an aerial view of a fight. You recognize All Might, who seems to be worse for wear, but hope surges through the crowd anyways. Tears finally stop running down your face and a helicopter flies over your head. Glancing up at it, and then back at the screen, you realize that the fight must be happening in your city. Others around you must have realized the same thing, because there’s another spike of fear, closely followed by despair as smoke clears around All Might and he’s revealed to be…smaller than before. Not the large muscular man that the public was so used to seeing. 

People are yelling, but you can’t make any of it out, the buzzing in your ears is growing too strong and a migraine starts to form. You don’t care and keep watching in a daze as All Might once again becomes large and then defeats this villain, raising a fist in victory. People break out in cheers, and they start chanting “All Might! All Might!”.  Hope and joy sweeps the crowd, and it fills your chest, but you know it’s not yours. This entire time all you’ve been able to feel was rage and betrayal. 

The crowd quiets down as All Might points to the camera and says, “Now. Now. It’s your turn.” A chill runs down your spine. You wouldn’t want to be one of the criminals he’s talking to. Somebody bumps into you, and the brief contact is enough to snap you out of whatever you’re feeling, his despair crashing over you. You look around for the boy but only manage to catch a mess of green hair.

The crowd starts to disperse and you follow suit, slowly making your way back to your apartment. Luckily it wasn’t destroyed by any of the fighting. You don’t know what you would have done if it was. You climb the stairs and are soon at your door, keys in the lock, pushing it open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting, or maybe what you were hoping for, but there’s no one waiting for you with take out and a kiss. Your heart aches and your anger flares up again, tears once again forming in your eyes. You wipe them away and push down the thoughts, deciding instead to take a hot shower and go to bed. The sun is starting to come up, but you don’t think you’ll be going to work or class for the next few days. 

There are no new messages on your phone. You turn it off and settle in, falling into a fitful sleep with no dreams. 

~

When you wake up, it’s late afternoon. Some of your classmates had texted you asking if you watched the news. You replied to them, saying that you were leaving work when it happened. You called out of work, and the manager on shift said that was fine, that they were actually going to be closing for a few days and not to worry. 

You made breakfast and turned the news on, desperate for any information you could get about Tom- about Shigaraki . He isn’t who you thought he was. All they were saying is that the League got away, but the big bad, All for One, was taken into custody. You wonder if that’s the Sensei you’d heard so much about. 

After doing the dishes and straightening up your home as best as you could, you make quick work of removing any evidence of Shigaraki from your apartment. The spare toothbrush, his clothes in your dresser, even the spare pair of gloves he sometimes wore to ease his mind about touching you. You shove them all into a box, staring at the contents with venom. It would be easy to just toss it all into the trash, to get rid of it, to get rid of him . But something in your mind wouldn’t let you so it’s shoved into the back of your closet, something to be taken care of later. 

Since you don't have work, you go grocery shopping and do other errands you haven’t had a lot of time for. The city is still a bit of a mess, but for the most part is cleaned up, and the trains are running again. Still, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was hard going into public the next few days, everyone being anxious makes you anxious, so you stay in for the most part. Your classes are on hold, work is closed, and you have nothing to do. 

It’s agony. 

The days pass slowly for a time and then, almost all at once it seems like things return to normal. You’re back at work, classes have started again, and you’re busy all the time. 

Still, there’s an ache in your heart, and you constantly feel like something is missing. Like someone is missing. But it’s easy to push down those thoughts when you’re so busy.

A few months pass this way, and you neither hear or see anything from a certain villain, not even a mobile order at work. The box in the back of your closet gets buried under other stuff and is almost forgotten. 

Almost. 

Life goes on and it gets easier. 

~

After so much time, it becomes your new normal. You stop expecting him to show up at your door or at your work, stop looking for him on the train, stop trying to feel his familiar aura whenever you’re in a crowd. 

That’s why when you open the door to your apartment and the aura of someone else hits you, you’re on edge. Quickly grabbing the pepper spray out of your bag, you creep into the apartment. Calling the police should be the first thing you do, but you’re tired and don’t feel like trying to deal with any heroes right now. 

The intruder is in your kitchen and before they can say anything you’re aiming the pepper spray in their direction and squeezing it, spraying them in the face. And then the smell of curry registers and the aura of the other person really hits you and you drop the pepper spray. 

He swears and jerks away, and you go to reach out to him, to apologize, and then his red eyes meet yours and months of anger and rage and sadness comes over you. 

“ What the fuck are you doing here?” 

He grunts and goes to your sink, grabbing the dish soap and turning on the water. “If this is your way of saying you’re happy to see me, I’d hate to see you when you’re angry.”
You ball your hands into fists at your sides. “I am angry! Furious in fact! I haven’t seen or heard from you in months after hearing on the news that you kidnapped a fucking child!” 

“It wasn’t a child, he’s in high school-” 

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

There’s a beat of silence, the only sound is the water running as he’s still trying to wash the pepper spray out of his eyes. You’re not sorry, and your own feelings are filling your chest so you can’t feel his. You’re grateful for that. 

“Why are you here?” The fire is gone from your voice. 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” 

“Not good enough. You waited too long. Get out.” You point to the door. “Take your curry and leave. I don’t want to see you. In fact, I have half a mind to call the police, let them know where the most wanted villain in the world is.” 

He flinches and his pain is flowing over you. You step as far away from him while still standing in the kitchen, doing your best to not let it affect you. He stands up from the sink, gently shutting off the water. His face is wet and his bangs are dripping, making him look something akin to a wet cat. He pushes them out of his face with a huff. “I don’t think you mean that. Listen, things have been-” 

“No, you listen. I don’t care what you have to say,” your voice wavers from the trembling rage inside of you, “whatever we were, it’s done. I thought that you had- that you were different. That you had ideals that matched my own. But you’re the same as every other villain with a pipe dream. I just want you to- I just- just get out. Please, before I call someone.”

But he doesn’t leave, just stands there and looks at you with a furrowed brow. Your frustration sweeps over you again and you’re crying. You want him out, you want his feelings out of you, so you push at them until it feels like something is bursting out of you. There’s a lightness that hasn’t been there in a very long time. The anger doesn’t just dissipate, but is pushed onto him, and a dark look crosses his face and he takes a step toward you. Fear spikes through you, this time all your own. Your eyes widen. That’s new. Did you just have a fucking quirk awakening in the middle of trying to get your ex-whatever out of your apartment?

Shigaraki seems to snap out of it, softly saying your name as he tries to reach out to you, but you jerk yourself away before his hands can make contact. “ Don’t .”

His arm drops back to his side. “Please. Please let me explain.” 

He looks at you desperately and you want to keep yelling at him, tell him to get out of your apartment and your life but your anger deflates and your stomach growls at the smell of curry hitting your nose again.

 “...Is that from the place on the corner?” He nods in response. “With extra-” 

“With extra garlic, yes. I remember how you like it.” 

You bite down your fondness. “Okay.”

His surprise hits you. “Okay?”
You nod, stepping toward him—well more toward the take out. “You have until I finish eating to explain yourself.” Quickly, you take the food out of the bag and a fork out of the drawer, turning to him and leaning against the counter. You take a bite and it takes effort not to show how pleased you are. 

He takes a deep breath. “Where do I start?”

As you eat, he explains. Explains pretty much everything, starting from what he could remember as a kid when All for One found him on the street, to grooming him to hate heroes and hate All Might and society as a whole and how to harness the anger that he didn’t understand, to forming the League, and then meeting you and how that started to change things. 

You’d been done with a take out for a while when he finally got to the part about kidnapping the high schooler and your anger returns. You slam your fork on the counter, making him stop. “I still don’t understand why you thought that was a good idea.” 

He scratches his neck, red marks forming. “I- I’m not sure I can explain that one.”

“Right. How does one explain the need to take a child?” Venom drips from your voice. “I think you’ve said enough.” 

“Please, just- I can’t-”

“No!” You spit, “I’m done. I can’t do this. Get out.” 

“I disbanded the League.” 

The wind leaves your lungs. “ What? ” 

“The League isn’t really a thing anymore. That-” he pauses, “ incident caused some things to change. With Sensei in jail, I wasn’t sure what direction to go in. We were hiding in an abandoned warehouse and it- We had no direction, no one to lead us. And that entire time, I could hear your voice in my head. It made me want to- to do the right thing. Or at the very least not destroy anymore. The reason All for One found me was because- because nobody, no Heroes, were willing to reach out to me. To the scared little boy on the street covered in blood and dirt and-”

“Listen, To-Shigaraki,” he winces as you trip over his name, “I’m glad that you’ve had a change of heart, but you still ghosted me for months. I can’t just get over that.” He nods and wipes his face with his sleeve. “You hurt me. You’ve hurt others. How do I know you won’t do it again?” 

“Because you just being you made me see that he was wrong. I’m still not very fond of heroes, but you made me see the good in the world. That people can be good. You didn’t care who I was, who I am. You wanted to help me, just because you wanted to…” He trails off, fidgeting with something in this pocket. He pulls out one of the hands and you’re on edge. “This was a way for him to control me. To keep me in his pocket, to keep me on a leash like a dog .” His fingers curl around the hand, one raised ever so slightly. He looks up at you and drops the last finger, his father’s hand turning to dust. 

You inhale sharply. “Oh. Oh shit .” 

“I want you to know that I’m serious. About this. About us . I- he- All for One, he told me, that night, the last time you saw me, that you were a distraction. Like he could feel that I was starting to doubt him. He wanted me to get rid of you. To just throw you aside like you were some kind of trash, like you didn’t matter. I told him I did, and that’s why I was gone but he doesn’t have control over me anymore and I’m here now.”

You’re not sure when it started, but you’re crying again. God, you cry a lot. This time when he reaches out to you, you let him. He wraps his arms around you, and you think he’s also crying, but you bury your face in his chest, hands fisting in his shirt. 

He’s pressing his cheek to the top of your head and you lean back slightly, angling your face towards his, and lips meet. There’s a slightly salty taste from all the tears, but neither of you care and then you’re wrapping your arms around him and he’s so solid, so real for the first time in months. 

You break away first and press your face back into his chest. His heart is beating incredibly fast and it’s nice to listen to for a moment. There’s still so much to talk about, so much to work through but right now, none of that matters. 

One thing does cross your mind though and you speak against his chest, words muffled. “Tomura. How did you get into my apartment?” 

~

Later, after more talking, tears, kisses, and sweeping up the pile of dust that was once his father’s hand, you coaxed him into the bath with you. It went something like: “Tomura, no offense, but when was the last time you took a bath?” “I’ve been living in a warehouse, what do you want from me?” 

He sits in front of you in the tub and you gently wash him, letting the soap and water run over his marked skin. There are a few new scars that make you frown, and a few that you recognize (the one from Stain healed nicely). 

“Tilt your head back for me.” You rinse the shampoo out of his hair and rub in the conditioner, humming as you do. His eyes are closed and he’s so relaxed that you think he might’ve fallen asleep. You rinse the conditioner out too and then lean him back against you, staying like that until the water goes cold. At that point, you think he actually is asleep. “Tomura,” you whisper. He groans in response. “Tomura, please. I’m starting to get wrinkly.” He opens his eyes at that and the two of you get out of the tub, wrapping yourselves in towels. 

One of the first things you did was throw all his clothes in your hamper, so after getting into pjs, dig out the box at the back of your closet with everything he had left behind. You push it toward him and he grins. “Aw, you kept my stuff? How sweet.” 

You stick your tongue out at him. “I thought about throwing it away, you know. I probably should have. Instead I let it stink up my closet.” 

“Whatever.” He opens the box and pulls out some of his clothes. You can feel that he’s pleased with the situation despite his feigned indifference and you roll your eyes, turning to get yourself ready for bed. Tomura gets dressed in fresh boxers and a soft t-shirt and then climbs into bed, patting the spot next to him beneath your sheets. You ease in next to him. Facing him, you wrap your arms around his waist and he melts into your touch, careful of his hands as he returns your embrace. 

Tomura looks at you so softly and full of love and you’re overcome with rich warmth and comfort, a metaphorical blanket draped over you along with your actual comforter. Dry fingers tuck wisps of your hair back. “Thank you for believing me. I know this is going to be hard for both of us, but I just…I just want a life with you. I love you.” 

It’s such an innocent confession and it tugs at your heartstrings. You press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Tomura. I’m still upset with you and things are different, but I think we can make things work.”

The two of you lay like that for a while, occasionally letting hands and lips wander. Sleep comes easy, though. It’s been a long day, and as you drift off, you listen to his heart beating steadily in his chest, glad that you took a chance on your favorite scruffy regular.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!
We really had a good time writing this and there will probably be a sequel full of domestic fluff and the deflowering of one Mr. Classic Combo.

Feel free to leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed. :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Classic Combo With a Baja Blast