.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mixi | 20s | ESL | Sideblog

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About me

Since I literally just dropped a fanfic into an empty blog.

My name is Mixi, I'm 24 and, I have an art blog here because I like to draw too also have a blog where I rb stuff. I recently decided to write fanfics in English to practice the language and because I like to write lol

English is my second language (spanish is the first), so misspellings and grammatical errors are to be expected, so feel free to correct me!! I'll thank you<3

[seppez]

"Aunque me quieran meter ideas malas a la cabeza de él, no lo van a lograr porque yo lo conozco más que todos ustedes, sé que es un hombre bueno, y no, claro que no es perfecto pero ¿Quién es perfecto en esta vida? Pero yo sé que tiene intenciones de mejorar."

[mothergold]

selfshipping with my blorbo isn’t enough i need to hunt him down and eat him

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ok so while I love the "I can fix him" trope, I really wanted to try the "I can make him worse" but in an unintentional way, like the reader truly loves Tomura she does, and yet she traumatized that man even further lmao and is even worse bc a lot of the choices Tomura made are made because he has been groomed by afo since he's a kid and then he genuinely chose to be with reader because he grew fond of her and he chose wrong jdskaj

anyway chap 3 in like a week or two

[currentlycryingaboutlancelot]

obsessed where stories where it is like. the mistakes are unfixable and the worst thing that could happen happened and nothing can go back to how it was. but there was still love in this and love will continue after this and love endures always.

[yellowraincoat]

The natural companion post to my favorite post

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Slip

Summary Chap 1

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader cw: None, but this series contains adult themes so minors don't interact. Word count: 4.8 k AO3

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

The timeless fact shared throughout human history is that resources equal power. A few generations ago, quirks weren’t even considered a possibility, let alone a metric of power, even if superpowers are currently statistically as prevalent as brown eyes. Financial resources are still considered the most valuable.

Tomura granted himself access to that resource thanks to his battle with Redestro, and as a result, the league did as well.

It was fun at first to eat anything you wanted whenever you wanted and have clean clothes delivered to your door. It was so simple to become familiar with the pleasant things. Getting used to being seen as some kind of authority figure by the members of the Paranormal Liberation Front was not. You didn't agree to this.

It continued to bother you that the members of the PLF insisted on calling you Lieutenant Y/n. After the numerous reunions you attended, nothing but the thought of delivering your dismissive to Tomura rounded your mind, stating that you didn’t want anything distinctive and that you were content with being merely Y/n. Writing the letter took you a while. It would be easier to tell him in person, but brushing away the feeling that he was actively avoiding you has been complicated since that night.

Setting up a communication method that allowed him to avoid you seemed more appropriate. Saving him—and you—uncomfortable eye contact and more awkward talk. By that train of thought, sending a text was far simpler, but it felt wrong. You wanted him to read your handwriting not because it was good but because you wanted him to know you took the time to consider your choice.

It is not like you were leaving.

But you were in a way that mattered to him.

The first draft was lengthy. You poured your heart into the paper sheet, but it soon dawned on you that you had written it for yourself, not Tomura. That kind of relationship was not what you had with him. You began again, dragging the pen over the sheet until it bled in thick, blotchy scribbles, tossing that sheet away too.

By the end of your writing session, all you came with was a short note that wasn't worthy of an envelope.

The next issue was getting the note into his possession. You once again rejected the less complicated choice in favor of breaking into his room covertly and leaving it there. Something told you that breaking into his personal space would irritate him less than sending the note into the hands of a third party.

─────────────

Tomura's new room was on the building's top story. He didn't quite care for it; it was Redestro's idea to accommodate him in such a place.

You went to the elevator, avoiding people as much as you could. The occasional greeting was appreciated, but each time, you hoped it remained just a salute and not an invitation to converse. The beaten-down boots you refused to throw away made squeaking noises as you walked down the polished floor.

You wondered why luxurious places had to have all surfaces polished to the point of reflection; after all, you didn't need to scrutinize yourself on everything that caught your eye. The elevator was not better, with a huge, full-length mirror attached to the back. Even if you gave your back to your reflection, you could not escape your mirror doppelganger. The silver-like door of the elevator was as reflective as recently polished silverware.

The sound of the tiny speaker, which indicated you’d reached your destination, took you out of your mind with pre-recorded bells. Stepping outside, you turned your head left and right; no one was around to be a witness. Little did you know, Tomura had said to everyone else that he didn't want people snooping around his room.

You would bet that the massive, thick wood panels that made up the door were custom-built. It surprised you that the doorknob wasn’t locked, but who would dare to break into his room apart from you?

You meant to only leave the note in a place that looked messy so he would notice it and then run away from there as quickly as possible, but you didn't resist the urge to wander around. The room smelled clean in a chemical way—too much bleach. Under that, you could perceive his smell; you remembered it so well.

The room was so tall and went on and on. If you spoke out loud, you knew the echo would answer your words in an eerie whisper. An office space was to your right. The left led to a narrow passage, possibly a bathroom or closet. Who knew?

In front of you, a set of stairs led you to his bedroom. The big, tall, imposing windows gave you an impressive view of the gardens and the city nearby. Now, you were jealous of that view.

Muffled steps startled you when you were about to turn around and finish with this exploration and delivery mission. You didn't even have the chance to try and hide; he was already beside you. He moved like a cat, naturally stealthy; his broken leg had healed long ago.

"Nice view," you muttered, swallowing your surprise.

He hummed in what you hoped was agreement. You didn't lift your head to look at him or move. Trying to control your nerves was costing you all your willpower. Your quirk has never been this useless before.

"I brought you something," you said, lifting the note so he could see it.

"I have paper in the room over there," he said, pointing to the office near the door.

"It’s a note.”

You finally turned to look at him, with his now immaculate white hair surrounding his head like a halo, wearing the three-piece suit he started to use when Redestro convinced him he should dress accordingly to his new position. He appeared so different; even his body language, with a straight, proud back, was not the same.

"A petition," you clarified.

"Is it so important that you had to break into my room?" He inquired, taking the note from your fingers.

"The door was open; I knocked." You shrugged, disregarding his question.

Tomura hoped your important petition was something along the lines of being with him again, not necessarily for sex, not like he would say no if you offered, but he wanted your presence near him again. He didn't want to hear whispers trying to lure him now that he was powerful. Tomura very much would rather listen to you.

He'd done what he thought was right by letting you come to him on your terms, just like you did the first time.

"Whatever it is, I'm fine with it," he said casually.

You frowned at his words. He had to hold his fingers in a fist to keep his thumb from smoothing the lines on the space between your eyebrows and to keep himself from pressing his mouth against yours.

"You should read it." That's all you uttered before walking away. "Goodnight, Tomura," you said when you reached the door, then you disappeared.

─────────────

The knocking on your door woke you up with a start, activating your quirk as you took your first conscious breath. The person outside your door must've felt the buzzing of your quirk because they immediately said:

"Sorry to wake you up, Ms. Y/l. Mail."

Why the fuck didn't they just slide it in under the door? You wondered as your eyes darted to the clock on your nightstand at 6:00 a.m. It read neon green numbers.

Throwing a robe over your shoulders reluctantly, you retrieved your quirk, a headache already blooming behind your eyes. A man in an ironed uniform was before you with a warm smile. He gave you an envelope unceremoniously.

"Thanks," you mumbled to the man, and he bowed, ending the awkward interaction.

You knew what this was, even if the envelope was blank and unsealed. Tomura must have trusted people in no way would tamper with his things, or maybe he heedlessly didn't care. With shaky fingers, you pull out the folded paper inside the envelope to find a single word written hastily in the center.

Approved.

Officially, you were no longer Co-commander Y/n. The responsibility you had never asked for had been taken from your shoulders. You could feel a smile starting to appear on your lips. In any case, you weren't a fighter in the first place; in Tomura's words, when you first met, you were support.

─────────────

Tomura regretted not stopping you from leaving his room.

When he had read the message to the end, he turned it into dust. Is that what you truly wanted to do? Striding to the office, he had not even bothered to visit before.

He told himself that he had more important things to do and that he didn't have time to ponder the reasons why you thought the way you did. He needed to demolish civilization and prepare his body to accept AFO. A single word was enough of an answer.

The paranormal liberation front was inconsequential; disposable pieces turned pawns on his chessboard. He trusted his league enough to let them complete all the planning for the upcoming attacks on heroes, and Dabi to deal with the spy.

You were not indispensable anyway. Absolutely not. Even when he caught himself thinking about you. Tomura had no time to lose; he had a war to win. He was the mass-destruction weapon that would tip the scales in their favor.

The next reunion was private, with just the co-commanders present. Before Tomura entered the conference room, all eyes were on the empty chair that belonged to you. Himiko looked at Spinner questioningly, but he merely shrugged; her guesses were as good as his.

Tomura didn't address it either when the reunion began. He was brief; he was going into the next step, and his body had to turn into the perfect vessel for AFO. He was moving into the hospital of Dr.Garaki that very same day to start with the procedures.

New responsibilities settled on their shoulders. At last, there would be concrete action taken against the heroes—a shift was in the works. It was almost time to document the rebirth of a new world rising from the ashes of devastation.

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You may have shot yourself in the foot because you grew bored pretty fast. The information came to you the same way it came to everyone else: later, watered-down, and changed. The atmosphere shifted; that was clear. As training got underway, individuals were selected and chosen in a manner distinct from how regiments had previously accommodated their squads.

Now you were under Trumpet's command. You'd trained well enough not to be worried; you knew the reach of your quirk very well; it was advantageous but it was not going to be a major factor in the battle.

You grew fond of the rooftop, as everything in the building was overdone, but the plant pots with exotic-looking greenery offered a feeling of privacy. A girl took care of them—a plant-based quirk, probably; she reminded you of Tomura with a similar hair color and bright red eyes.

Then you felt dumb for searching for him among other people.

You walked up to the roof as you often did on one of your many sleepless nights, and sure enough, it was empty. The chilly air stole a shiver from you, making your eyes water. You ought to have taken a jacket, but you weren’t going to hop into the elevator again. The thought of dropping by Tomura's floor and breaking into his room again was too tempting.

You had no idea what you were going to do there. Would you wait for Tomura to catch you again? That was a bad idea.

Bracing yourself and rubbing the length of your arms, you wander to the edge. From the nearest city, a million tiny artificial stars could be seen. The horizon melded with the sky, joining the real ones. You tried not to think about the fate of those people living their lives.

"I didn't know you liked heights, Lieutenant Y/n." A male voice made you turn your head: Hawks. He was wearing a charming smile.

"As long as I have my feet on something solid..." You answered. “I don’t mind.”

He chuckled like you just said the funniest thing he had heard all day, or as if he were laughing at you.

"How come I don't see you in meetings anymore?" He asked.

You didn't like this guy. Dabi was supposed to deal with him. Allowing a hero in was never a wise decision. The fact that Hawks, the second-ranking hero, disagreed with hero society seemed too good to be true.

"My presence is not required." You said that, placing your index finger over your lips. "Secret missions and all. No one is better than you to get it right?"

"Right, right. Good luck." He said it with a boyish smile.

"Good luck to you too. Surely it must be stressful? If I were to lie in front of the hero commission, I would be under a lot of stress. You're so brave." You could play that game too. Men love flattery, and Hawks seemed like he liked to get his feathers ruffled.

"Rarely a change can be obtained without taking risks," he added as he leaned against the railing. "Just see Shigaraki going and turning himself into a guinea pig."

What? What did he say?

"How do you know that?" Keeping a serene stance rapidly became so much harder.

"Dabi said something like that. I don't have the details, just that Shigaraki is under some kind of procedure," he said, lifting his hand in mock defense. "Didn't you know, Lieutenant?"

"I won't confirm or deny anything." You said, faking a chuckle, fixing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Right. Secret missions and all.” He said holding your gaze.

That smelled rotten. You served information to the hero on a silver plate. He was not stupid; far from it. Hawks read you like a book, and who knew what you unknowingly admitted or denied? He tricked you in a game you didn’t know you had cards in.

Banging at Dabi's door at 3 a.m. was surely not the plan you had for your night and yet. He opened the door, a threatening blue flame already licking his fingers.

"The fuck you want is 3 a.m.; it can wait until tomorrow."

Ignoring his complaint, you stepped into his room, shoving him inside.

"Why are you giving information about Tomura to Hawks? What does he mean when he says Tomura is turning himself into a guinea pig?" Using your hands to emphasize your statements, you yelled at Dabi.

"Why were you talking to Hawks?" The man answered your question with a question himself.

"It doesn't matter!"

"You didn't know? Shigaraki is not in special training; he's getting inside a tank to get his body ready for something," Dabi said casually, taking fluff off his jacket.

"Why are you telling the hero that? Don't tell me you trust him." It took you a couple of minutes to digest his words. You were starting to get tired of people asking about stuff you might or might not know.

"Look y/n I don't know what you did to Shigaraki to get him to kick you out of the team, nor do I care, but I will tell you this: I don't want your nose up my business; I have the situation under control." He stated this as he approached you, coming to your eye level.

You scoffed. 

"We'll see."

You went back to the hallway just as you were crossing his door frame, ready to walk away. Dabi murmured, "Garaki's Hospital."

You came back, capturing your attention once again.

"That's where Shigaraki is."

"Why are you telling me that?" you asked, lifting your eyebrow.

Dabi was trying to buy your silence by giving you a piece of information he knew you wanted. It was written all over your face, and of course, because he didn't want you rushing around telling everyone else about him disclosing private information to Hawks.

"I have the situation with the hero under control. I know what I'm doing. Don't worry and don’t worry others," he assured you, repeating his words.

"Fine, I won't tell anyone anything, but you must tell me what's going on."

He shook his head and sat on a sofa, male-spreading.

"Not much. I should ask you, Why did the boss give you vacations?"

You shrugged back.

"Reasons" you leaned on the wall, unconcerned about ruining the expensive paper wall; the room had already been marinated in smoke anyway.

"You see, I don't want people up my business, and you don't like people up yours. I'll end it here.” Grinning, he tugged at his charred flesh and said, "I always like you more than the other idiots; you know when to shut your mouth."

"That was a shitty attempt to get into my good side." You replied.

"No like I would gain anything from it" 

It was clear the conversation was over; you should've controlled your feelings. As you walked towards your room, you realized that Dabi had planted a seed inside your mind. In the end, he didn't tell you anything.

He confirmed that Tomura was undergoing some kind of procedure in Dr.Garaki's hospital, though. A dangerous idea was starting to seep into your head.

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First of all, setting a plan is what you ought to do. Willingly, you stripped yourself of all the power you once had, but that gave you a certain freedom. The PLF's lower ranks were in the thousands, and most of them couldn't point you out. You could go and return as you wish without having people hover over you.

You didn't trust Hawk. He was hiding something, or maybe many somethings. Dabi's judgment wasn't reliable either; he too was hiding something. And you wouldn't care if whatever plan he was putting into action could be the reason everything could go to hell.

Two options danced in your mind. Both were as wild as they could be in their genre.

Getting rid of Hawks by yourself was not only impossible; it was a death wish. For once in your life since you became an adult, you were mad you didn't get a quirk that could be used as a weapon.

Variables in that plan started taking shape. Humans have been killing since they first existed; murder was ingrained in the genes of homo sapiens as much as gathering and art were. Maybe you just have to be creative.

A gun could do the job if you had one or knew how to use one. Poison is a classic, woman's favorite weapon; it is elegant and classy, and if he were as smart as you thought he was, he would never drink or eat anything you served him, which led you to square one.

The second plan was...

So, how difficult could it be to gain access to a secret laboratory hidden beneath a hospital? Assuming Tomura was down there rather than in one of the hundred existing rooms. You didn’t trust that Dabi was telling you the truth; for all you knew, it could be a test.

To see how dumb you were.

To see how fast you were going to be running up that hill toward the hospital, to go and tell the leader that he was giving information to the heroes.

Good thing you didn't care about any of that.

Even if you told Tomura you knew him when he had a thing in mind, nothing else mattered; he would just say something along the lines of "I'm sure Dabi can deal with it" or "I would just kill all the heroes."

Bad thing you cared about Tomura.

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People underestimate how far you can get if you wear a plain white button-up, jeans, and a security vest. All you have to do is show up as though you've always been there. Getting the vest from the utility closet wasn’t hard; you just had to wait until everyone was training. You were even able to get a forgotten toolbox with the tools still inside. It was just as easy to get outside the building; everyone was so enthusiastic about the plans that were ahead of them, and their minds were so full of ideas that they began to fly out of them like little flies.

You were prepared to get in after securing the toolbox and slipping the bag handles over your shoulder. Hiding in plain sight had always worked for the schemes you'd planned in your head, except in the cases where they didn't. It was time to forget about those.

Walking into the ER, appearing a little disoriented but not too lost, attempting to project the idea that you've done this before and that remembering the precise location you should be in this interminable hospital is simply beyond the cluttered memory of a junior contractor.

A last check at your reflection in the glass door showed you that your disguise is perfect: your clothes are clean but not brand new, and your hair is out of your face but not in a complicated way. The more you appear unremarkable, the better.

The nurse at the reception was typing lazily, lifting her gaze to tap at the forms sitting on the counter for the people demanding medical attention.

"Hello. I'm a little lost, you see. My colleague ought to be in the basement right now, tending to the pipes—the ones in the boiler room, that is. We received your call earlier this week.” The nurse gave you an annoyed expression at first, followed by a relieved, "I'm glad I can get rid of you quickly" look.

"Oh, so silly of me; I'm F/n." You continued conversing as she accepted your outstretched hand. "Could you please tell me how to get there?" You were giggling. Your calm exterior starkly contrasted with the simmering feeling in your stomach.

"You can take the service stairs." The more you studied the nurse, the more tired her face appeared, her dark circles unmasked by the heavy layer of concealer creasing around her eyes. "Next time, use the back door; this is the ER." The woman sighed and waved you away with a flick of her wrist.

"Sure. Sorry, my bad."

And that's how you use overworked health professionals to your advantage. Before the voice got running about the oblivious contractor testing the patience of the ER's nurse, you went to find those service stairs.

The good part about hospitals is that they're always hiring people to fix stuff. You can't risk an immunocompromised patient getting pneumonia due to a lack of warm water. Almost all hospitals have the same layout; the experience you gained from all your years of getting inside places has gifted you with such knowledge.

Of course, in this case, you had to break the first rule: walk as if you knew the place like the back of your hand, but you wanted the alarm to go off. Garaki was a wise man; he knew he had strange things in that basement, which was most likely guarded by some kind of device—a nomu—to keep the outsiders out of his illegal lab, and you wanted to wake it up.

Pushing the heavy door of the service stair landed you into a well-illuminated hallway divided up and down, and down was the cross on your map.

Gasping for breath as you pulled down the last step in the building, the stagnant air provided poor-quality oxygen and dust, leaving you lightheaded. If someone was after you, good luck running all those stairs.

The concrete floor and walls that once were bright white marked the entry of the basement door. Every few turns, you noticed doors with peeling lettering and some with shut locks. You made sure to mismatch your steps as you walked to daunt anyone from hiding their steps with yours. Your quirk was muffling your hearing with white noise—a small price to pay for being untrackable.

Disoriented, you finally found the thing you were looking for: the power gabinet. Gabinet was an understatement; it was huge, with a whole room’s worth of switches and rumbling noises accompanied by colorful LEDs looking like Christmas lights.

Now if you were a real electrician or if you just had any—not even a basic—knowledge of how any of this worked, you would probably be able to pick up where Garaki's lab was, but your plans were far less sophisticated.

You hoped the hospital had an emergency generator for the machinery that kept people alive since you were going to shut everything down. You were like a solar storm, flipping all the switches. You went out and pulled a latch on the door; that should give you a little time.

There it was.

Nomus have blood running inside their zombie veins, but they don't have a heartbeat, so in your head, it translates like turbulence inside a tube. You appeared to have only awoken a few of them. Going against all your self-preservation instincts, you went after the sound, using it as a trail to navigate into the darkness. A flashlight was tucked in the loops of your jeans, but the desire to use it waned as you realized you'd be placing a target on your back.

All you permitted yourself was to navigate with your right hand; the cold tiles ground you, bumping every few centimeters against your fingers in an irregular pattern.

With every step you took, you questioned the flaws in your plan. Underproductive, you were already in the second circle of hell. There was no point in turning away now. No like you would find the stairs back up regardless of whether you tried or not.

More stairs led you down the rabbit hole; they twisted at a ninety-degree angle. A light that gave you a sinister sense made you think that maybe you had already passed away on the stairs at the end of the walk. The light was filtering through the minimal space between the door and its frame. Squinting, you attempted to concentrate to detect a heartbeat on the other side, providing them with your position in a lose-lose scenario that might soon go south.

The person on the other side had a steady heartbeat until they felt the buzzing of your quirk making its way into their head. The pulse quickened, and the door opened.

Red eyes stared at you, astonished.

Or so you thought. The sudden brightness burned your eyes; blotches appeared behind your eyelids. Hissing, you covered one of your eyes with your hand.

"Y/n? What? What exactly are you doing here?" Tomura asked.

"I fancied a walk," you replied, rubbing away the burning sensation from your eyes.

"Y/n..." 

"I was worried. I needed to talk to you. I don't believe Hawks, and I don't think Dabi is doing a good job with him either." Admitting the thoughts inside your mind.

With his arms crossed and lesions that still looked like purple bruises running in strange patterns down his right arm, Tomura reclined on the door frame.

"Maybe if you had not quit, you would be able to solve it." His voice was filled with resentment. "I'm busy" 

"That's beside the point. If Hawks informs the heroes what you're up to, it may mean all of this goes to hell. I'm trying to prevent it."

"Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging. “Dabi can handle it.”

"How am I supposed to not worry if I was able to sneak down here so easily? And Dabi does not handle it well."

Tomura pondered your words for a few moments. He was not in the headspace to worry about the hero and the possibility of his betrayal. Half the time he was under some kind of painful operation, and the remaining half he was too exhausted and drained to worry about chores he had already delegated to his league.

"Make sure it doesn't happen then," Tomura said. "You're smart; keep the hero at bay."

"Too late. Dabi already told him I learned it from Hawks."

Tomura hummed, rubbing his chin.

"Stay with me here. Your quirk should prevent the heroes from tracking me," he continued, wetting his lips. "Keep me hidden."

An anxious perspiration ran down your back as you widened your eyes. "What but..." Tomura cut you off by saying, "I can't leave."

Biting the inside of your cheek. It shouldn't be this difficult to make a decision; it doesn't have to mean anything other than assisting your teammate.

"I'll stay," the voice that encouraged you to go underground urged you once more to stay, “with you.”

Notes: Sorry about any mistake English is not my first language, also I'm bending canon a little lol Next chap is just smut and a little bit of plot then it is only angst and pain from that point jajaja

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The Way Things Are

Summary

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader cw: 18+ minors do not interact, smut, unprotected sex, reader has a quirk, messy, loss of virginity Word count: 4.5 k AO3

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The days unfolded more as they passed. Blending like watercolors, transforming into a jumble of warm mornings, hazy afternoons, and cold nights A month passed, and it was hard to believe; however, the calendar on your phone couldn’t be lying, or maybe it could. After all, you didn’t have a recollection of ever using your quirk in this exhausting way.

Maybe it could mess with the internal clocks of phones too. Concealing your presence was an easy job—a hum that surrounded your life, making you almost indestructible and undetectable.

A cozy blanket that kept you safe well into your early adulthood Concealing others was a different story, though, having to synchronize with their heartbeats and breaths. The unwelcome familiarity of discovering the patterns of the league. You were the newest member; a few weeks didn’t make a significant difference, but facts are facts.

They already had a well-established dynamic; it’s not that they didn’t attempt to incorporate you. Making friends was simply not on your list of reasons for joining this organization in the first place. Allies were required to accomplish your end goal; the plan was to keep them safe with your quirk, and they would assist you in exacting your revenge.

You have to stay inside the tiny cabin. No , you thought this was hardly a cabin. It’s a shed not meant for staying for more than a night or to be used as temporary shelter, but the times were rough and the money was cut off many weeks ago. Getting used to the pungent smell of rotting wood was still an active project.

The wood panels that acted as walls provided minimal protection from the weather; if it rained, you knew because the water formed poodles on the already-molding hardwood flooring.

This was better than staying outside , you told yourself as you checked your ratty sleeping bag for ticks and other unwanted companions. Getting a bug bite-transmitted disease would be the cherry on top of this disadvantageous situation.

That night, it was only you and Tomura in the room; the other members decided to flee for liberty. The only night the leader decided to take a real break and not only a few hours to rest

Even Spinner excused himself; you didn’t have anywhere else to go, and your head pounded painfully behind your eyes like a second heartbeat with the uninterrupted use of your quirk. You might as well take the chance and turn it off for once.

Being a loner, even in a group of other outcasts, was funny in a way. The night was setting, and soon Tomura would enter the room, nod at you, and ignore you for the rest of the night until the sun rose again.

The only change in the routine was that tonight he would sleep in, which made you nervous. You were used to the others being here, coming and going, murmuring greetings, and asking if suddenly food decided to manifest itself in the pantry.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until the soft noises of Tomura setting his sleeping bag woke you up. You didn’t mean to pry into his nightly routine, but you couldn’t help it. The dim lighting provided by the sad portable light cast shadows on his face, making his dark undereyes more noticeable and deeper. The crazy rhythm he set for himself was starting to wear him down. Suddenly, he looked five years older in the span of a few weeks.

He was down to his t-shirt, but the night was so cold , you thought. Maybe it was your people-pleasing personality or the fact that you wanted to talk to someone about anything. You left the warm cocoon of your sleeping bag to go look into your things for a spare hoodie, sweater, or anything warm.

He lifted his eyes and did the usual thing he did: he nodded at you, and you nodded back in silent acknowledgment. This time, though, you offered him a hoodie.

“It’s cold” You haven’t used your voice in hours, so it came like a hoarse whisper. His gaze went from your face to the hand offering the garment.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Your hands are shaking.” You were talking in whispers, the same tone you would use when talking to a feral cat. “I’ll leave it here.” You crouched slowly. Again, he looked tired and easy to piss off, and he was already easy to provoke when he was in a good mood, so it was better not to poke at him.

“Whatever,” he sighed.

You stayed there a little. Listening to the sounds from outside the walls. Letting your hands grow colder so you can warm them up later inside your sack. Watching your nails turn purple with poor blood circulation and then returning to a healthy pink. Pretending you were on a camping excursion with friends and not on a terrorist mission with people you barely spoke to, your thoughts made you giggle. The absurdity of it all

“What’s so funny?” He sounded more annoyed than tired, so maybe he did want to talk.

“I’ve never been camping.” And with that, you got up and crawled back to your small personal space.

“Me neither,” he said after a long pause.

Just above a whisper from his mouth, it felt like a small win to get him to speak about other things that weren’t his plans for the league or video games. You let the moment go too far; the opportunity to converse was halted. Soon, his steady breathing told you he was asleep. Good for him; you knew he needed the sleep.

You couldn’t make yourself sleep tossing and turning for what you felt were hours. The cold claimed your body, and your breath was visible in front of you in wisps of steam. How much did the temperature drop? It was hard to know for sure, but the bites from the bitter cold were eating your fingers, leaving flushed cheeks, stiff toes, and clattering teeth behind for you to endure.

It never crossed your mind that you could miss having all the members of the league around to provide human heat, but here you were shivering inside a thin sleeping bag in the middle of nowhere.

You wondered if Tomura was doing better, so you tuned in to check on him. To see his half-lidded eyes already staring at you. You noticed he was wearing your hoodie—another win for your small record. No, like you were keeping a record.

“Y/n” He broke the silence, his voice husky and tired.

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn on your quirk?”

You were not expecting that at all. You sat slowly, warming your hands with your breath.

“The buzz sound—I got used to hearing it.”

You could accept his petition, but you could also get something from him—a mutual favor: he wanted the side effect of your quirk, and you wanted a source of heat.

“Sure, but can I move closer to you?” The words left your mouth, and they turned into ribbons wrapping themselves around your neck, too accustomed to never asking for anything from anyone. To want was to desire, and desire was why you ended up as a stray on the edges of society.

“You don’t need to be close.” He replied, stating the knowledge he had of the way your quirk worked. It tasted too much like rejection—the oily, sour aftertaste setting in the back of your throat.

“That is true.” You shrugged, letting your quirk wrap around him. His heartbeat joined the sounds inside your head, along with the palpitation of your headache. He was upset; probably his pulse was faster than it should be considering he was lying down.

“Is it easier to use if you’re close?”

“No.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m cold, that’s all.”

He kept his eyes on you, actually taking notice of your presence for the first time since you joined the league. You wanted to be out of this situation. A wave of stress settled on your shoulders, and the tightness of your chest made it harder to breathe. You didn’t like being noticed; it was easier to be in the background, taking little space.

“I smell!" Tomura snorted, almost chuckling. Almost. It's another win for the record.

“We all do.” You let a chunk of your stress be dissolved by a short laugh. “We all should bathe and soak there for a few hours”.

He chuckled this time. You joined him. It felt delicious. You felt normal for once in a while.

“You can move closer.” He whispered reluctantly, his rapid heartbeat hammering the back of your head. Maybe it was invasive to get a glimpse of a clue to how he felt without disclosing it, but no one asked, and you were not about to go. Hey, just letting you know that I can hear and feel your heartbeats inside my head. Sorry about that.

You rose, your steps muffled by your socks. He was already making space for you. You lay beside him on your side, facing him. The sleeping bag was slightly bigger than yours, but still, your knees were touching, and suddenly you gained awareness of all your limbs and their positions. The way you bent at uncomfortable angles to avoid touching him more than what was inevitably necessary. It was warmer and nicer too, even if you were never going to voice such a thought; your fingers were finally allowed to regain blood flow.

You wanted more. You wanted to take more; the ache for human contact was tingling at your fingertips, so close to another human yet so far. You longed to be the one who takes, not the one who stays empty-handed, and god, you were as empty as you could be; nothing belonged to you.

So in a moment of impulsivity, with his heartbeat driving you insane and his knees touching yours, you decided to press your mouth on his closed lips—a peck. You waited for him to push you away to try and turn you into dust for the audacity of daring to kiss him. But he didn’t; he remained still. A muffled sound coming from his throat was the only acknowledgment you got.

You pushed it more; it was addicting—the heat from his body and the way he tasted the musky smell from him—making you wish you could get inside his clothes. You parted your lips, trying to deepen the kiss. His hands found their way to your upper arms, squeezing them in a fourth-finger grip, not pushing you away, not pulling you in either, just keeping you there. The guilt made you draw back.

Your mind was racing as your stomach tangled into tight knots. But then you saw his face, eyes closed, and brows furrowed together.

“I can’t touch you.” He murmured, his breath tickling your mouth. Letting go of your arms, he set his hands into fists on his sides.

Now his gaze was on your eyes, his pupils engulfing the red of his irises. He wanted to give in to physical pleasure; he never really let himself explore before. His life had always been about controlling decay, and he didn’t particularly like the fact that your quirk could potentially make you immune to his.

He used to indulge in fantasies where he met someone who he could touch and who would not squirm away from him in fear or disgust. Then he met you, gentle-faced and not quite made for a villain’s life but with a useful quirk he was not going to turn down.

He decided later on that not having the power to get rid of you if needed was not something he was fond of, contrary to what he initially thought. Still, he wanted to dig his fingers into the plumpness of your hips, knowing that you would stay whole. He could not afford the distraction though, so keeping you at arm’s length was necessary.

Tomura didn’t imagine you were going to be the one to close the distance he so carefully crafted. Even more so, he would let you effortlessly do it too, giving in so easily to a gentle gesture, a tender kiss, and a kind caress.

“I don’t want to.” He ran his hand through his hair, the pale locks stealing highlights from the faint portable light. “I should not want to.” He spoke to himself, attempting to assure himself that he had no special interest in you.

One of his hands moved to your nape, drawing you closer. He didn’t allow you the chance to flee and hide in your sack; the hand on your neck brought you back to his mouth. This time, he was the one who started it. Too quick, too eager, too hungry—his kiss was clumsy and inexperienced. You bit him softly, trying not to break his chapped lips any further, just enough to make him stop for a second.

He was perplexed.

“I thought you wanted”— I thought you wanted me , left unsaid. He whispered, tilting his head to get a better view of yours. “You kissed me first.”

“I do,” you said, attempting but failing to conceal your hesitation. “I did”

You fell into an awkward silence, peering into one another’s eyes but not daring to break it again.

“Why? He inquired. His glance flew to your lips, then up to your eyes, expecting to find the answer he was seeking.

“I felt like it.” 

That was not what he was expecting, yet again. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear; for months, he had prevented his attention from wandering to you and your ridiculous quirk.

He was aware that he was not in love with you. That was not something he believed himself capable of; not even lust was something he frequently indulged in; usually, it concerned physical sensations, the twitch in his lower abdomen, and the slight relaxation that followed. That was a checkbox on the pyramid of needs that humans had to meet.

“Do it again?” He whispered, giving in. He could swear the buzzing of your quirk started to have a rapid heartbeat-like pattern.

The previous uncomfortable silence was preferable to this conversation. The consequences of your actions didn’t make themselves wait; they showed up barely minutes after kissing him.

“Do it again?” You echoed his words with an unsure voice.

“Don’t act like that now. I’m not the one who started this with the excuse of being cold.”

“It was not an excuse; I was cold,” you replied.

“Yeah, well. You certainly aren’t anymore." He trailed off, his gaze fixed on you. A frown formed on his brow.

“Should we talk about it?” You inquired shyly.

“What? Now you want to talk. You never say anything and have never actively participated in our missions! Now suddenly, you’re interested in discussing things? Acting like a damn NPC,” he retorted, his tone laced with skepticism.

“You never complained before.” You mumbled.

Successfully, you annoyed him in record time. He laughed wryly.

“Is this a fucking joke? Is this how you entertain yourself?” He leaned forward, his mouth close to your ear. The breath hitting your skin made you shiver. “You think that because I can’t use my quirk on you, you can just do anything you want to me without consequences?”

“Of course not. Look, I apologize for what I did. I’m leaving” You said to walk away like you often do when things become too difficult to handle. “Let’s pretend it never happened.”

You crawled out of his sleeping bag with all the dignity you could muster, shuddering when your calf accidentally brushed against his forearm. You didn’t get far; well, Tomura didn’t let you get far. He grabbed you by the ankle.

“You don’t get to just walk away from this.” He stated. “Not when we work together every day. And not after you just kissed me out of nowhere.”

The chill from the floor pierced your bare foot as your sock turned to dust. Your quirk buzzed around your body, repelling his.

“You thought you could get away with it? Just do whatever you want to me. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then what do you want? I offered to talk, and you said no, but you also said no to me, leaving you alone. Yes, I shouldn’t have kissed you, but you kissed me back.” You huffed. “Just let it go.”

You were purposefully ignoring the fact that he did ask you to kiss him again, and you rejected him. It was terrifying to understand that the very first kiss was more than simply impulsiveness; perhaps you wished for a warm body to exchange body heat with, but not anyone you wanted his.

“You shouldn’t play with people’s feelings like that.” He definitely didn’t take it well. He yanked on your ankle, sending pain through your leg and forcing you to step forward. Your hands broke your fall; kicking him instinctively, your foot connected with his shoulder, causing him to hiss.

“What’s the matter with you? You yelled. He had already sat down when you turned your body to face him. “Why do you act like that over something as insignificant as a kiss?”

“It’s not about the kiss,” he said, sighing. Tiredness framed his face, and his skin was as irritated as ever. The faint sounds of nature outside flowed through the room as he sat there. This situation was entirely your own creation.

“Don’t kiss me and then reject me.” He mumbled. You knew that saying that cost him. “That’s cruel”

You gulped, drooling like an animal in captivity who had just been thrown a piece of meat after long weeks of starvation. Slowly, your finger brushed the shoulder that you were pretty sure you’d kicked.

He lifted his gaze, doubt written all over his face.

“So?”

He hesitated to answer. Licking his chapped lips before talking.

“Kiss me or leave.”

The bluntness of his statement left you frozen, but you couldn’t deny the pit of desire ignited in your body. The hand that was on his shoulder moved up to his face, cupping his cheek. His breath hitched, and you launched yourself forward, pressing your mouth to his lips.

Your tongue traced the outline of his scar. Tomura opened his mouth, capturing your tongue and licking it. He didn’t know where to put his hands; maybe you would not decay, but your clothes were another story. He settled for burying his hands in your hair.

Starting to feel lightheaded, you dropped your hand to his chest, not that you needed it to feel his heartbeat. You never retrieved your quirk effect from him; his pulse was hammering rapidly in your head, making you wonder where all that blood was traveling.

He quietly gasped, breaking the kiss. He glanced into your eyes, and that’s when he knew you were into this as much as he was. He kissed you on the neck, his breath caressing your sensitive skin and causing you to jolt when he nibbled the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, forcing a moan out of your mouth.

He stiffened; he could never have thought a little sound like that coming from your mouth could have such an effect on him as electricity rushing down to his groin, feeling himself grow harder. Self-conscious about the possibility of you noticing his erection, he pulled aside a little.

“What?” You muttered.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked.

“No”

“Can I touch you?” Your desire was palpable in your speech.

He nodded. And you ran away with the confirmation. You reached out to touch the rough lines that composed him, and as your hand went to his lap, he quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist, not with any real force.

“We can stop." You started, but he interrupted you.

“I already told you I don’t want to stop,” Tomura snarled. “I just need a moment.”

You chuckled under your breath.

“Why are you acting like a virgin? We are just making out!”

He looked dumbstruck, and his saliva-coated lips parted in an expression you didn’t think he was capable of. He coughed, wiping his face. The realization hit you like a fist to the nose. Of course, he didn’t have any experience in this department. It wasn’t even hard to guess.

You pushed the virgin too far. With a vice grip, he yanked your hair; the pain was registered later on by your nerves when he was already pushing you to the sleeping bag. He pinned your hands above your head, brutally stretching your shoulders, making you trash under him.

His narrowed eyes met yours. His lips were tugged down so deeply that you could see the specks of blood blooming from his chapped lips. Tomura was mad, tired, and aroused.

You inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill your lungs. Hopefully, the newfound oxygen in your bloodstream could help you find a way out. Suddenly, he let go of your wrists, choosing to nuzzle your neck instead.

“I’m tired,” Tomura mumbled, sounding muffled and defeated.

On the other hand, you were restless. His hair was brushing your cheek, and his breath condensed on the skin of your neck, leaving a moist, warm feeling behind. You ran your hand through his hair; it was softer than you imagined, curling around your fingers.

He sighed, rolling off you to sit beside you, making the old wood flooring crack under him. The cold indignantly filtered through your body again, missing his body heat. Like a moth to a flame, you wrapped your arms around him and turned to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You could get used to his smell and the way his pulse quickens beneath your lips.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

“Just hug me back,” you replied.

He took advantage of the situation by slipping his hands under your sweater. Tomura's hands were warm, which was ironic given the destructive nature of his quirk. No one else was going to love the texture of his fingertips tracing lines on their backs except you.

There was no lust in his touch at the beginning, but that didn’t last long, with his contact growing hungry and desperate. You straddled him, his finger digging into the small of your waist and bringing you closer, encouraging you in. Tomura lifted his head to meet your eyes and opened his mouth, hesitating to speak.

There’s no need to speak, you thought. Kissing the corner of his mouth and licking the dry blood from his lips, the faint coppery taste only served to feed your desire for him. Your arousal would already be coating his lap if it weren't for the thick sweatpants you were wearing. You needed him to stop being so shy.

“Decay my clothes." Your speech was muffled against his mouth, but he heard every syllable, replaying it in his mind over and over.

“You’re insane,” he whispered back.

“Undress me then."

"Huh? I'm not going to strip you." For a split second, you assumed that meant he didn't want to go any further with you. You were gloriously incorrect. He gently pushed you on your back again, this time placing his palm on the back of your head to ensure you would not get hurt. “Not fully. You’re cold, remember?”

“Right” 

A hasty hand slid down your pants, his thumb hooked in the waistband. You arched your back to help him undress you with the combination of his warm hands and the cold room. He mostly kept his word, only setting one leg free from your pants and underwear.

As eager as he was, you battled with the button of his jeans. Pulling it until his erection sprang free, you wish the room were thoughtfully illuminated so you could see all of him. This time, he didn't wrap his hand around your wrist to stop you.

Instead, he sank his finger into the swell of your hip, stealing a gasp from your mouth, encouraging him to touch you more as he pleased. Without losing any more time, you stroke his cock, slowly caressing his flushed tip with your thumb, smearing the precum down his length.

He jerked forward, biting down a whiny moan.

Your mouth was on his neck, kissing and licking him, down to his collarbones, tasting his salty skin. Tomura was on cloud nine; your hand was warm and soft around him, and you were doing this willingly.

“Please Y/n” He was not used to asking for permission; he was raised with the encouragement to take whatever he desired when he wanted. For some reason, he wanted you to give yourself to him without having to force you.

“Let me help you." You whispered Tomura jolted when you guided his cock to your entrance, wrapping your legs around his bony hips. Tomura grabbed you by the waist, burying himself in the inviting wetness of your cunt.

You heard yourself cry out a moan at the sudden stretch. Just like the first kiss, he was sloppy and rhythmless. No, that he cared at that very moment. You felt so good clenching around his cock.

"Tomura." You breathed out his name.

He grabbed your plushy thighs, parting your legs further. He wanted to be inside you so deeply that you would feel like something was missing when he pulled out.

You pulled his hair, sending delicious tingles down his neck. Tomura pressed his mouth to yours forcing his tongue inside your mouth as he  began to set a pace sending waves of pleasure with each thrust

“I want you to cum with me. What should I do?” He asked, panting in a hoarse whisper.

“Touch my clit while you fuck me."

His thumb found the bundle of nerves, and a wave of pleasure invaded your body, making you breathless and gasping for air. You knew he was close when he started to moan in your ear. His hips rocked intensely. Tomura felt his abdomen clenching, and he gave in to your grip. The world stopped for a moment, and it was only him and you. Putting your hand behind his nape, you draw him closer, kissing him while you reach your peak.

Tomura plopped on top of you, still to the hilt inside you. The spasms, remnants of your orgasm, emptying him further inside you. Kissing your sweaty temple, he rolled off you.

You didn’t want to think you’d regret this so soon after it was over, occupying your mind with cleaning the mess before it dried in a sticky nightmare instead. You used your remaining sock to clean his cum that slid down your thighs.

After you fixed your clothes, you turned to see Tomura, who was already sleeping on his side, giving his back to you. Odd. Well, he did say he was tired. In one of many kind gestures, he wasn’t sure he hated or loved; you fixed his clothes by pulling his jeans back on.

He looked content with his usual scowl, relaxing to a neutral expression. Finally, you settled for letting him sleep alone in his sleeping bag; eventually, you’d have to talk with him; he owed you a pair of socks after all.

When you were seeking a shield from the cold in your sleeping bag, exhaustion had already claimed your body. You were drifting to dreamless sleep.

You will regret this.

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

Chap 2.

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What I Always Wanted

Summary

Tomura had been attempting to get Gigantomachia to submit to him for a few weeks, so he decided to rest for the night. You find yourself sharing a sleeping bag with him. One thing leads to another and you two end up being intimate, but neither of you wants to talk about what happened that night. In the following weeks, you continue to deny your feelings for him. As time passed, and with Tomura now being the leader of the PLF you grew apart even further. After witnessing some suspicious events you looked out for him.

Chap 1 • Chap 2

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