• Paring: Tomura x Yan!Reader
Somewhere in between the lines you’ve worm yourself into his home. He wasn’t sure how or when you’ve gotten in, but Tomura was certain you wouldn’t leave. Was this his choice or was it yours? Did it matter now that he had the warmth he’s always craved?
Cw: stalker behavior, yandere themes, verbal/emotional manipulation, delusional domesticity, mutual(?) obsession, tomura pov at the end.
A/N — this is a no quirks au, do mind the warnings, it’s rather tame I’d still like to inform you all of the potentially triggering topics. Not proofread, a small fic for Christmas.
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
It started in a library. You were bored, exhausted, and empty. The rain was pouring, a cold, loud, sharp annoying sound.
The jingle of bells caught your attention first.
A huff, a sigh, and there he was. A man drenched in rain, with eyes that bore no warmth. He wasn’t rushing, nor was he in a hurry to go anywhere, he was just — empty bored — he looked bored, like the world was entirely inconveniencing him, as if it were beneath him.
A strange feeling overtook you next. Could he understand you?
It didn’t matter, socializing wasn’t your priority. You shouldn’t approach him, and yet funnily enough you did — you did something completely out of character. You stood up, offering the strange man a cloth.
“Do you need an umbrella? You must be cold.” You tried to keep yourself levelheaded. Tried your best to seem approachable, and yet he was completely apprehensive.
“The hell—” he sneered, “Do I look like I need help? I don’t want your pity.” Defensive, he was guarded from the moment you opened your mouth.
You merely laughed, offering the object despite how he stumbled back, as if the mere idea of touching your umbrella scarred and burnt him. You were more insistent than he thought you’d be, with a slight heave — he reluctantly gave you his name.
“Huh? What was that?” You repeated, trying to test the waters once more.
“Tomura, don’t make me fucking repeat that again—” you interrupted his harsh words by grabbing his hand. Urging him to follow you.
You heard the weather will get worse, why not head home while it’s lightly pouring?
His response was arrogant, though you did not heed his warnings. Despite his anger he stayed silent, hand interlaced with yours as you guided the way. He clearly didn’t trust you, but that’s fine — all that mattered was avoiding the thunderstorm.
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
Time passes rather quickly. It’s been a week since you’ve met Tomura. It’s been a week of you visiting. He never asked how you knew his address, you never brought it up either.
Tomura was…to put it lightly — lanky — all skin, and bones, malnourished in a sense it was worrying. That wouldn’t work, you had to fix that. His once empty fridge now filled with new sets of groceries.
“Isn’t it early?” He muttered, sleep lacing his tone. Gone was the distrustful note in his voice, now replaced with annoyed acceptance.
“Not really, besides if I don’t wake up early who’d give you breakfast?” You don’t acknowledge it and neither does he. Why were you in his house? Why did you know his address? Things left unsaid between the two of you.
The first bite was always the cutest to see.
You liked seeing how Tomura reacted, liked how his face would scrunch up when it was a little too bitter, how his cheeks flushed when it was far too spicy. There were so many things to note about him — it was exhilarating — living for the sake of someone else.
What you didn’t appreciate however, was his bloodied knuckles. Each day new bandages covered him. It was worrying, malnourished and in fights often?
You had to care for him, if not you — who else would? Could anyone love Tomura like you do? Even he knows the answer to that, maybe that’s why he never tells you to leave.
You’ll find a way to fix those habits of his. Didn’t he know fighting was dangerous?
Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. With a reluctant glance back at him, you stood up and left for home.
Though you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hand — hesitance — he doesn’t want you to leave either? How sweet.
You left his place with a content smile, already planning on what to bring on your next visit. Maybe a toothbrush? Clothes? You would need them if you stay the night.
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
The first night you stayed over you slept in his bed. He didn’t shift nor he move when he felt you settle down. He didn’t bother opening his eyes either, accepting the intruder was most certainly you.
You’ve become a constant recently, always there when needed.
When Tomura came home with his bloodied knuckles, you were there to patch them up and by that point something shifted. Your affection seemed to have worm its way into his very existence.
He no longer hesitated to demand for things, red eyes following your every move. You didn’t ask — neither did he — you occupied the spaces in between. Covering the gaps in his once empty home.
You’ve stayed over so often you ended up never bothering to leave. Your clothes filled his closet, your items spread across his abode. You don’t know when it happened, but it did.
Tomura’s home was yours, and your heart was his.
“Where are you going?” He never once asked that before, the change was slow. Usually you did the talking, he often listened.
“..my place? I still have to do lease agreements and all that..” you carefully tested the words, seeing if he’d refuse your companionship.
“Are you renewing your lease? Why?” His tone was irritated, you already occupied his home, so why not just stay? It was infuriating, Tomura himself wasn’t sure why the very idea of you leaving irked him.
“No, I’m not.” The silence that overtook next spoke volume.
He never questioned, you never answered.
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
Tomura wasn’t sure what to think of you. No matter where he went you accompanied him — like a lover — parasitic in a way. Having you around felt strange.
Having you gone felt even stranger. Your presence soon became a vital part of his daily routine. You were there in the mornings, there in the afternoon, there in the night — in his bed — and the day after the cycle repeated.
The itch was apparent when you left. His nails dug into his palms, wrists, anywhere he could get his hands on when you were away. Surely this domestic bliss was completely fabricated by you, but who was he to refuse?
Tomura doesn’t know why you stick around, however it is comforting to have someone care for him. Going from having no one to wait on him, to having someone who’ll feel sick when he’s gone too long was a comfort he’s grown fond of.
He let you crawl into his bed at night, let your fingers run through his hair — lets your lips linger on his — because why shouldn’t he?
The change was subtle, but even his friends soon found out. When questioned, why deny? You lived together, you slept together, you were just there.
Were you lovers? He wasn’t certain, friends? You broke into his house. Calling you a stalker didn’t seem fitting either, it’s not like he tried to stop you. So how could he call you something so insulting?
Tomura didn’t know if he reciprocated — this — whatever this was? He wasn’t sure, but one constant that stayed true was he can’t have you leave.
The house feels colder when you’re away, so what if you pavlov’d him? He still got his treats in the end, why complain now?
The relief he felt when you promised to stay was immeasurable, truly where else would you go? A part of him knew what you were doing was wrong, another craved that feeling.
You knew this was illegal, and yet you did it. Found his home, broke into it, and overstayed your welcome — and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to be creeped out.
You did it because you cared for him — loved him — you did this out of affection. For a human starved of this fleeting feeling, he’d do anything to keep it.
It doesn’t matter, it never did.
As long as you came back, and as long as he never asked. No one needs to know what’s going on between the two of you — risking whatever this is..is out of the question.
You don’t love him, or maybe you do — Tomura doesn’t care one way or another. As long as this comforting feeling stays around, he won’t complain.
There’s no need to, and if there was, you’d fix it.
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