i have a main blog, but its just there for fun because i didn't know how to work tumblr when i first joined LOL. i write for many fandoms, mostly anime, animated series and animated video games, feel free to browse my masterlist :D
currently working on: clearing my drafts, inbox and head
!please don’t steal my work/ideas! give credit where it’s due! i also don’t give consent for my works to be used for anything like AI, chatbots etc.!
Synopsis: Who would've thought, the city's precious and very own superhero would have a "vigilante-hating" girlfriend?
If there’s one thing that baffled Satoru more than the plot of Wuthering Heights, it was his girlfriend’s thought process.
“Spiderman is what now?”
“Propaganda set by the government to distract us from major events. Hear me out, why did the National Art Museum just happen to get robbed on the same day as–” He closed his eyes, zoning out of the conversation momentarily.
“You’re not even listening to me,” you turned to face him, a frown on your face. Satoru smiled softly, pulling you down onto your bed to lay beside him, eyes still shut. “You think too much”
“And you, too less.”
A chuckle rang from his throat and his eyes met yours. His hand travelled to cup the back of your hand and another to your hip, pulling you closer until there was a few centimeters gap left between the two of you. His eyes scanned your face, dilated black pupils amidst a sea of cyan, a light pink hue brushed along his cheeks, barely noticeable but still there. If you looked closely you'd only be able to see one single thought forming behind those eyes: God, what a blessing it was to be able to call you his.
“Why do you hate him so much? Spiderman, I mean” He asked out of curiosity.
“Hate? No, I don’t hate him. Far from hate, actually. He seems cool, but you don’t find it weird? This rando shows up in a spidey suit, does acrobats and all of a sudden there are supervillains showing up like we’re in a DC comic? It’s the government”
“What if he’s just some kid? Our age, you never know”
“Or a middle aged man”
“I could be Spiderman”
Silence.
What was that? A pin drop??
His room had never been so silent in your presence as it was now.
His eyes widened, his blush deepening. “I mean–”
A smile slowly crept on your face, a teasing glint appearing in your eyes before you laughed. “Aww Sato, you’re adorable, you'd get along so well with my younger cousin!” you raised your hand, pinching his left cheek.
Shortly after the not so official confession, you turned your attention to your phone, watching another dramatised theory about Spiderman’s true identity, retreating back into the rabbit hole.
“Pay me some attention too,” Satoru whispered. Well, technically, you were paying attention to him, but not the kind he wanted. He wanted every piece of you to himself, to the Satoru Gojo you knew, not the masked vigilante you labelled as ‘masked menace’, thanks to the internet. Not that he minded- watching you talk about some conformity gate theory was adorable.
His fingers smoothened your hair, before travelling to your face, tracing your features with a gentle, feather-like touch. He leaned down until you were both eye to eye, noses brushing against each other's. You watched him close his eyes before connecting the two of you together by the lips. The kiss was soft, unrushed, and fragile. His cold hands travelled underneath your shirt, caressing the soft warm skin before pulling you even closer if possible. His glasses now discarded on your bedside drawer and your phone lost between the tangled mess of your duvet and bedsheet.
“I missed you” he whispered against your lips.
You smiled, “It was just two days.”
Yeah, two agonising days away from you and in the capital city, taking part in a competition Mr Yaga insisted would be a good addition to his University application. Just to his luck, the competition venue just happened to be three streets away from the museum, and on the same day the robbery occurred. Hence your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman was busy saving a different city and the school’s Academic Decathlon team.
He did answer any further, instead pulled the duvet over the two of you and buried his face in your shoulder.
ever since tomura got his...makeover, there. have been some noticable changes.
starting with the physical ones, his baby blue hair was now a pale shade of white. it was as if all the colour and depth in his tones has leaked out his body and his skin tone was now noticably paler.
when you first saw him again, he had an air of confidence about him too. as if he was on top of the world, and his word was the law. you don't know if he got a personality transplant, or if his more muscular, toned body was the cause, which he insisted on flaunting more than usual, ditching the oversized black tee, opting for skin tight compression shirts that highlighted the definitions in his arms and abdomen. if not that, then he'd walk around completely shirtless, insisting it was too hot, or that he was uncomfortable.
it would be a lie to say that you welcomed this change with open arms. your tomura was replaced with someone more headstrong, someone who craved the destruction of society more than ever and it seemed everything else was incomparable, unimportant at some times.
and the thought of you not being thought of in this new shigaraki scared you.
"hey," his voice came low and stern. "what's the deal with you lately?"
the two of you were sat at the bar. luckily for you, the other league members seemed to have their hands full lately, so the hideout would be empty for days at a time, with the exception of kurogiri who hovered silently.
you hummed. "what do you mean?"
"you seem upset with me...have i done something?"
you choked on your breath, looking up from inspecting your nails to find him searching your soul for answers.
"you didn't do anything, tomura. you're just changing a lot..."
he took note of how you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. "is change so bad?"
"it's not. it's natural. we're all constantly changing, its just that..." stressfully, you sighed, running your fingers though your hair. "...sometimes it's like you're losing yourself. becoming a whole nother person that i don't know of. i don't know how to react to that really."
since his sessions with dr ujiko, he's noticed a sharpness to his attentiveness. where he'd usually struggled to pick up on social cues or feelings, he now considers himself better than the average person, and you were no exception to that.
he's surprised to know that you, a regular human in his eyes caught on to this because occasionally it feels like he's on autopilot and someone else has taken the wheel. the thought that you are that attentive to his personalities and quirks made him realise just how much you were observing him, how much of him you'd truly seen.
"oh."
"yeah"
the silence had a slight awkward energy to it.
"well, i'm really having to step up as a leader now." he scratched the back of his head. "all the planning we've done is about to be worth something. we're gonna cleanse this society, and it's almost time to make our move."
despite the fact that you knew what you were getting yourself into with him, his talk about his plans for the future scared you. while you couldn't agree with his way of going about things, you also understood where he came from in terms of the past experiences he was willing to share with you.
you weren't going to talk him out of it, you knew it was never going to work when you tried gathering his opinions on alternative routes. besides, you had no interest being a league leader, you just wanted to be there for him. and so you were.
"is there even room for me in your new society?"
for the first time in a while, his mind was silent. room for you? of course there was! once the war was over, you and his can be together freely in the open! the new ruler needs his queen by his side, and there was no one else who was a contender for this spot except you.
feeling bold, his hands held the sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. "there's always room for you, new society or not. you inserted yourself into my life, so you're stuck with me whether you like it or not."
this was probably the most sincere and straightforward tomura has been with you throughout all the time you've spent together. 'maybe the new him isn't all to bad.' you thought.
"you promise?"
"promise." he leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead.
moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other, his thumb wiping your undereye when tears threatened to spill.
you sighed, heavily. "you've gotten braver, tomura."
like a flipped switch, the new, unknown personality in him dissapated, and the easily flustered personality originating from the crying child was back.
as if he realised his actions and current position, he inched his hands away, blush even more prominent on his cheekbones. your hands snapped over his, anchoring him in place.
"there he is," you whispered. "it's not so bad if it's coming from you."
the rest of the evening was spent in his embrace. he treated you with more fragility and care, paying extra attention to the way he acted around you with his new personality. he wants to try and supress it as much as he can when he's your boyfriend, not the leader of the league of villains, because he doesn't want to share you with anybody.
a hero, a villain and a vigilante all walk into the bar...
ft. [hawks, dabi, vigilante!reader]
the soft chime of the bell was drowned by the loud, boisterous chatter filling the bar. groups of people congregated on almost every booth, dozens of cups, of varying levels of emptiness, piling up as they laughed, argued and soaked in the environment.
the bar was quite packed for a tuesday evening, especially at this time. as your eyes scanned left to right, you recognised quite a few regulars from your many, many visits to this place.
some of them nodded at you in acknowledgement, others slapped you on the back as you passed with a heavy, slightly intoxicated hand. while the concept of this place was theoretically doomed, and was probably overdue for an incident, there was nowhere else you would rather spend your nights.
"you're here early," the bartender greeted you as you pulled out a stool. "no adventures for you tonight?"
being a vigilante was a confusing job to say the least, as expected when you lead a double life. by day, you were a humble office worker, busting your ass to make it through to the next. by night, you worked for the people. for those whose problems were deemed 'too insignificant' by the oh-so-reliable police force. while you could argue with yourself that yes, with the rise of quirks, crimes of larger scales have been wayyy to easy to commit, that does not mean any effort should be spared for those who are simply trying to live life.
you thought you were doing a good thing, many people thought so too, as seen on the forum pages about you. but of course, there are rules and procedures to saving people, apparently, and you followed none of them, leaving to some less than ideal run-ins with heroes on night patrol.
you shook your head. "nothin' tonight, i gotta recover first."
she giggled, loudly smacking on her gum, expertly pouring a pink liquid from one cup to the other. the ice clinked together as she set it on a coaster, sliding it towards you.
wordlessly, you dropped your coins in her hand, her winking at you before her purple pink locs skirted out upon her leave.
a cool, fruity flavour spread around your mouth as you took a swig, a satisfied sigh leaving you.
"how often are you here for her to be bringin' you drinks like that, huh?"
to your right, striking blue eyes bore into yours. you don't recall how long he's been here, but there was no way you would've overlooked such a unique appearance.
and with such an appearance, it wasn't hard for you to recall the patchwork pyro villain. you'd seen him before, very briefly, whilst hopping from building to building across japans night sky, but whether he'd seen you, disguised or not? who knows.
"long enough," you turned forward. "but not enough times to see you. you been here much?"
he grinned. "i come here every now and then, i'd come round more if i knew a pretty lady was scouting for someone like me."
a dry chuckle left you before taking another sip. "don't flatter yourself, i was just making conversation..."
"toya," a twinkle in his eye. "call me toya."
"toya it is."
the background noise faded back into focus while your brain stored this new information.
"sooo pretty lady, got any stories to share? couldn't help but eavesdrop, but now you've caught my attention."
"[name] will do," you faced him again. "what'cha wanna know?"
time flew by as you and toya bought more drinks and exchanged tales, both personal and hinting at your extracurricular activities that probably attracted you both to the bar in the first place, not that you needed much more hinting.
"...i'd finally gotten the upper hand on him, and then something slices my side-"
"hey! is this seat taken?"
an excited, manical glint flashed in toyas eyes as he inspected the person behind you. knowing what you know about your new friend, paired with your own experiences and mental data logs, there were only so many people you could've guessed it was.
even in such a low-key, private bar like this, he stood out very drastically. bright red wings were compacted as far as they would go. he wasn't in his usual attire, seeming to ditch the thick, brown winter jacket, settling for a skin tight, black tee that brought attention to his bulging arms. his visors sat on his head, holding his golden hair back, exposing his smug stare as he looked down on the pair of you.
he was halfway to pulling out the stool on the other side of you before you could speak "...not at all apparently."
with the two pairs of eyes staring at him, he spoke. "sooooo, what were you guys talking about."
toya gestured towards you. "she was just telling me about how she got a nasty gash on her side."
he spoke with a curious expression. "oh? do tell. i've got my fair share of stories like that."
"i bet you do."
the tension between the two was too much to ignore that even some of the people around you couldn't help but look at the two. but out of respect for the bar and it's rules, the two swallowed their pride as much as they could, apparently remembering that you were, in fact, still seated between them.
you cleared your throat. "so, what do we call you, stranger?"
he strokes his chin while he hummed, "keigo works."
"nice of you to join us, keigo." you smirked.
and so, you continued your story, recalling how while you were fighting crime and serving justice your way, someone intervened just as you were about to aprehend your target. not wanting to give up every single detail, you kept it vague, noting how they cut you quite deep, hence your current resting period.
"gnarly story." keigo pulled a glass holding a dark liquid towards him. "was it a knife?"
you shifted your gaze onto him. "don't think so. it was kinda like a needle, a flying one maybe? it was flying and sharp."
ever the observant one, he notices your eyes flicker over his wings briefly, reconnecting stare with an unknown flash of something in them.
"it's a crazy world we live in, isn't it?" toya spoke for the first time in a while.
crazy was an understatement. three people on different sides of the justice system having a drink together sounds like something straight out of a fever dream. it felt strange to all be sat together, pretending not to know who the other was, well, at least for the men on either side of you who practically tried to choke you out with the pressure gaining between them.
you glanced at the clock behind the bar, the clock reading time-to-go-home-o'clock. you downed the rest of your drink, pushing your glass away from you.
"well," the stool screamed as you dragged its legs across the floor, arising. "as fun as this has been, i've gotta take my leave."
"whaaaaat?" keigo whined. "but i just got here! don't tell me i've scared you away, i haven't told you one of my stories yet!"
"you can tell me next time," you looked in between the two, eyes lingering moments more than they should've. "'til next time, gentlemen."
toya wordlessly raised his hand, bidding you farewell, the winged hero going for the verbal approach, demanding that you 'don't forget about him.'
as you walked away, you stretched your arms above your head, feeling the ache ease up from sitting too long.
two pairs of eyes watched as you leave, eyes dropping as the bottom of your jumper rose by a few inches, revealing the bottom of a precise, bruising gash, one that held a story you generously shared with your new friends.
a shiver weaved between the spot where the feathers were rooted into keigos heavy wings, and it wasn't until you were completely out of sight that he snapped onto toyas collected gaze.
the bartender –a different one from your one–didn't linger after collecting their glasses, sensing the delicate situation.
"it's a shame that pretty things like her are being sliced in our streets at night. who would do such a thing?"
keigo didn't bother to suppress the smirk that threatened to show. "i dunno, toya. guy seems like a monster."
welcome to the don't ask, don't tell bar! a place for everyone to have drinks and laugh together, despite our different backgrounds!
there are a few rules and notices we ask you to follow, and by entering this bar, you agree to this term:
when you enter this bar, you are nobody, you know nobody. all identities, grudges and personal conflicts are left outside the bar.
any information gathered from your time at the bar did NOT come from this bar. DADT does not take any responsibility for the interactions that happen in this place.
we refuse to talk to law enforcement (or anyone, really)about the interactions taking place here (including customer logs, purchases etc.), or give any information that would jeopardise our customers in any way, shape or form.
cameras are strictly prohibited.
our staff is sacred, any threats, abuse, intentional discomfort, etc. will result in immediate removal from the premises.
should you break any rules, you will be asked to leave the premises and blacklisted from all don't ask, don't tell establishments for life.
thank you for your time. please come in and have a drink! you never know the people you may meet here...
masterlist:
a hero, villain and vigilante all walk into a bar [hawks, dabi, vigilante!reader]
the first time you kissed shigaraki, it happened so fast that he barely had time to process it.
you frantically packed your handbag, ranting about having to rush home for something. whatever is was, you were talking too fast for him to pick up.
"sorry to cut this short, t." you swung your bag over your shoulder, pressing your lips on the corner of his mouth. "i promise ill stay double the time tomorrow to make up for it, 'kay?"
you rushed out the door, not giving him a millisecond to respond. not that he would've anyways. he brought his hand up to where your lips touched his skin, feeling your sticky lip gloss as confirmation that, yes, you did just kiss him.
he was conerningly quiet the rest of the evening, giving dazed, short answers when kurogiri and dabi interrogated him at the bar.
he wants you to do it again.
--
'please do it again' he hopes he suddenly gained a telepathy quirk, staring at your concentrated form at the edge of his bed.
your tongue sticked out in concentration, carefully stroking the nail polish brush over your ring finger.
"d'ya like the colour?" you shoved your wet nails in his face. "it's a pretty red, matches your eyes."
"it's real pretty," he thumbed at the back of your hand, pulling you closer to him. "i like it."
you cheered, shifting nervously seeing his stare stuck on you. "...you okay?"
without thinking, his hands soothed the spot you kissed yesterday. "'m fine,"
you tracked his motion, lips quirking. "oh, is this about yesterday? sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i was just rushing, wasn't thinking."
he shook his head."no! no it's okay...i liked it."
it was silent for a moment.
"you liked it?"you shuffled closer to him. "do you want another?"
'YES' he yelled internally, simply nodding his head instead.
minding your semi-wet nails, you crawled inbetween his spead legs, leaving no room between your faces. holding eye contact, you lightly gripped his jaw, tilting it away from you.
slow and teasing. anticipation building. you planted soft, lingering, deliberate kisses starting from just under his eye, ending at the same spot at the corner of his mouth. satisfaction filled you feeling his face warm under your touch.
when you tilted his head back to face you once more, he looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.
the sweet scent of summer fruits invaded his senses as your lips got closer to his. it was just a peck, softer then the rest, but holding the same sensual energy.
he chased you as you pulled back slightly, shuddering as the laugh you breathed out caressed his skin.
the tension in the room dissapates slightly. looping your arms around his neck, you repeatedly pressed your lips against his, only stopping when basically all of your gloss has transferred onto his.
tomura messed up. even though his ego and stubbornness refuse to admit it outloud, he knew he messed up. he didn't mean to offend you, really. and although he knows he can keep hiding behind the excuse of 'this is all new to me', he doesn't want to.
he wants to try and understand you the way you try and understand him. the only problem is...well... this was all new to him.
a million different thoughts were going through his head. thinking less emotionally, more logically about what he can say right now to make things right. despite the influx of responses he's cooked up in his brain, the only output he could scrape together was a pattern of hitched breathes and opening mouths. no words coming out.
you sighed heavily, turning your head to hide the hurt expression on your face. "i think i just need space, tomura. you might benefit from it too..."
he wanted to reach out, to tell you he was sorry before your figure crossed the threshold of his room. but instead, he watched. helpless and, afraid?
are you going to leave me like the others?
i knew it was too good to be true.
sometimes, he wishes he can just rip himself open, and let you see his true self. all the things he's too emotionally constipated to say.
and although he can't, he sometimes wonders if you can see it anyways, you always know what to say to him, and when.
you paused in his doorway, talking over your shoulder. "i don't hate you, but you did hurt me. 'm not gonna leave you, okay? you just need to...think about what you say sometimes."
and just like that, you managed to ease some of the anxieties in his heart. but for some reason, it still felt heavy. he was the one who wronged you, so why are you consoling him?
this felt very backwards. deep down, he knew it was backwards.
his eyes never left your spot at the door. the guilt eating him alive felt uncomfortable. one of the very few people who showed him genuine kindness, and what did he do? he messed up, as per usual.
and while the old shigaraki would've moped a bit, maybe even gotten rid of all memories and shut her out all together because of his pride, the new shigaraki took her advice. pondering in silence about how to verbalise the many things he wanted, no needed to say.
because the new shigaraki wants to be better for you.
tomura messed up. even though his ego and stubbornness refuse to admit it outloud, he knew he messed up. he didn't mean to offend you, really. and although he knows he can keep hiding behind the excuse of 'this is all new to me', he doesn't want to.
he wants to try and understand you the way you try and understand him. the only problem is...well... this was all new to him.
a million different thoughts were going through his head. thinking less emotionally, more logically about what he can say right now to make things right. despite the influx of responses he's cooked up in his brain, the only output he could scrape together was a pattern of hitched breathes and opening mouths. no words coming out.
you sighed heavily, turning your head to hide the hurt expression on your face. "i think i just need space, tomura. you might benefit from it too..."
he wanted to reach out, to tell you he was sorry before your figure crossed the threshold of his room. but instead, he watched. helpless and, afraid?
are you going to leave me like the others?
i knew it was too good to be true.
sometimes, he wishes he can just rip himself open, and let you see his true self. all the things he's too emotionally constipated to say.
and although he can't, he sometimes wonders if you can see it anyways, you always know what to say to him, and when.
you paused in his doorway, talking over your shoulder. "i don't hate you, but you did hurt me. 'm not gonna leave you, okay? you just need to...think about what you say sometimes."
and just like that, you managed to ease some of the anxieties in his heart. but for some reason, it still felt heavy. he was the one who wronged you, so why are you consoling him?
this felt very backwards. deep down, he knew it was backwards.
his eyes never left your spot at the door. the guilt eating him alive felt uncomfortable. one of the very few people who showed him genuine kindness, and what did he do? he messed up, as per usual.
and while the old shigaraki would've moped a bit, maybe even gotten rid of all memories and shut her out all together because of his pride, the new shigaraki took her advice. pondering in silence about how to verbalise the many things he wanted, no needed to say.
because the new shigaraki wants to be better for you.
the first time you kissed shigaraki, it happened so fast that he barely had time to process it.
you frantically packed your handbag, ranting about having to rush home for something. whatever it was, you were talking too fast for him to pick up.
"sorry to cut this short, t." you swung your bag over your shoulder, pressing your lips on the corner of his mouth. "i promise i'll stay double the time tomorrow to make up for it, 'kay?"
you rushed out the door, not giving him a millisecond to respond. not that he would've anyways. he brought his hand up to where your lips touched his skin, feeling your sticky lip gloss as confirmation that, yes, you did just kiss him.
he was conerningly quiet the rest of the evening, giving dazed, short answers when kurogiri and dabi interrogated him at the bar.
he wants you to do it again.
--
'please do it again' he hopes he suddenly gained a telepathy quirk, staring at your concentrated form at the edge of his bed.
your tongue stuck out in concentration, carefully stroking the nail polish brush over your ring finger.
"d'ya like the colour?" you shoved your wet nails in his face. "it's a pretty red, matches your eyes."
"it's real pretty," he thumbed at the back of your hand, pulling you closer to him. "i like it."
you cheered, shifting nervously, seeing his stare stuck on you. "...you okay?"
without thinking, his hands soothed the spot you kissed yesterday. "'m fine,"
you tracked his motion, lips quirking. "oh, is this about yesterday? sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i was just rushing, wasn't thinking."
he shook his head."no! no it's okay...i liked it."
it was silent for a moment.
"you liked it?"you shuffled closer to him. "do you want another?"
'YES' he yelled internally, simply nodding his head instead.
minding your semi-wet nails, you crawled in between his spread legs, leaving no room between your faces. holding eye contact, you lightly gripped his jaw, tilting it away from you.
slow and teasing. anticipation building. you planted soft, lingering, deliberate kisses starting from just under his eye, ending at the same spot at the corner of his mouth. satisfaction filled you feeling his face warm under your touch.
when you tilted his head back to face you once more, he looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.
the sweet scent of summer fruits invaded his senses as your lips got closer to his. it was just a peck, softer than the rest, but holding the same sensual energy.
he chased you as you pulled back slightly, shuddering as the laugh you breathed out caressed his skin.
the tension in the room dissipates slightly. looping your arms around his neck, you repeatedly pressed your lips against his, only stopping when basically all of your gloss has transferred onto his.
Your daughter was strange to say the least, you love the poor girl — but something was off. Your daughter constantly stared at the blank spaces in your home, calling out a name you thought you’ve long forgotten. She can’t possibly remember him, can she?
Cw: inspired by the k-drama “hi, bye mama!” Ghost tomura, angst, hurt/comfort, open ending? Takes place a few years after BNHA ending.
A/N — tldr: Tomura tries to be a present father even though he’s already passed. Tomura pov + reader pov at the end. Short fic, Not proofread. New years started off terribly so everyone gets this shitty fic as a gift :)
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
Tomura can’t remember much about his life before. He knows he started a war, he knows he hated heroes — and he knows you — the one who stayed behind.
When he asked you to join him, you ran. Refusing his offer to be something greater, to tear down this wretched society. He couldn’t blame you, it was a tall request, though he wished desperately that you would’ve considered.
Looking back on it — no wonder you ran — how could he be better than any hero if he forced you to fight?
Tomura should’ve asked questions, he knew you agreed with him. So why did he foolishly let you go? He should’ve said something that night, ran after you, begged you to tell him anything.
Now he has to deal with the consequences for the rest of his life undead time. You never talked about it, he never inquired. Kids were the last thing on his mind — he was a villain — he had other things to worry about.
A family was something people like him didn’t get to have, a thing he was glad you left him for to pursue.
The kid was his — he was certain — the child was practically a mini him. She was different, she had a similar quirk to Nana, it wasn’t anything destructive like decay.
Tomura wasn’t sure if he envied his own spawn or if he was glad she got the better chance at life. It was a hectic mess, though he doesn’t dwell on the past any longer.
You’re a pretty good mom, he noticed that the more he stuck around. Was this why you ran? Did you not trust that he could be a good father? There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things that’ll permanently be left unanswered.
He wasn’t sure if he’d like to know your thoughts on the matter either. If you assumed he’d be similar to his father…well, Tomura doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it.
It’s so silly the more he thinks about it. A strange concoction of emotions that overwhelm him. It wasn’t hard caring for her, it wasn’t in the slightest.
When you’d fall asleep in the living room — he cares for her — he doesn’t blame you for your exhaustion. You’re human, tired, struggling, and overworking yourself to provide for her.
Though he can’t help the envy he feels at the sight. Despite his death, how terrible it must be juggling jobs to keep afloat, you never once raise your voice. The kind of parent Tomura wishes he had, the kind Tomura wished he could be.
The girl babbled in front of him, a child no older than four. She had his eyes, her nose similar to yours. A mini mixture of you and him.
“Mom’s tired isn’t she?” He softly muttered, trying to keep a gentle tone. He watched the way you did it.
How you’d enunciate your words to help her understand it better. She giggled at his words, trying to hold onto him, but to no avail. She flinched back at the contact, almost like a cold shiver went through her.
Tomura wished he could hold her in return. If he ran with you that day, would things be different? Would he be here now? Watching over your shared kid, hugging you close, helping around when you were overwhelmed — would that have been his future?
It’s entirely domestic, a luxury Tomura knew he couldn’t afford then, and now most certainly cannot.
He gives her advice on her drawing, tells her to add a dog. She asks questions, bubbly and full of enthusiasm, and he tries to match her energy.
It’s exhausting, nonetheless he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Tomura never dreamed of having a family, he almost wishes he did things differently.
Then he’s reminded of this rotten society, and he’s instantly convinced that he’d do it all over again if given the chance. Though with one key difference — he’d convince you to stay on his side, and most of all he’d make sure to win.
• • • ─────── • — • ─────── • • •
You love your daughter, of course you do — however there’s something off. You don’t know when exactly it happened, yet lately she’s been acting strange.
Your friends tell you it’s normal for kids her age to have imaginary friends, but were their imaginary friends supposed to be named after someone they shouldn’t know?
Her speech isn’t the greatest, nonetheless the sounds she makes seem rather similar to the name — Tomura — you’ve never mentioned him
It scares you, not the fact that she’s different…it’s the thought she knows something you’d rather leave in the past.
Tomura’s dead. You remembered it clearly, post partum was hard — finding out he died made it harder. You told everyone her father was gone before she was even born, a part of you feels guilty for manifesting it into existence.
You knew you couldn’t tell Tomura, you couldn’t just have her on the run either. So you left. It was easier than staying. Tomura wouldn’t have changed for you, at least not entirely.
She needed stability, not a villain for a father. You promised to keep it a secret for her sake, so why does she know him?
Ghosts aren’t real, you don’t think they are. But what if? Even if they were, what would that change?
The more you think about it, the crazier everything seems. You dated a villain, got knocked up, ran away, and lied to your daughter on who her father was. The universe might really have it out for you — now she speaks of a man exactly like him.
It’s unnerving, you try to stay strong, nonetheless it still hurts.
“M-mom…look what I mmade with T-tomu!” She ran up to you, all elated and excited.
You didn’t think it could get worse, but it did. It always does. A dog, you, her — Tomura — in what seems to be a crudely drawn garden, the sentiment would’ve been cute, if not for the obvious red flags in this picture.
Tomura. You have no photos of him, you never spoke of him, you tried to hide it in the dark — a secret you’d take to your grave. So why does she know him?
You zoned out for the rest of the day after that, you went through the motions. Feeding her, playing with her, tucking her into bed. The usual, now with time to unwind — you rush into the bathroom — splashing water across your shaken expression.
When you raise your gaze, you see something in the mirror. No, not thing, more so someone you shouldn’t be seeing.
“Hey.” What? The same hoarse voice, those same red eyes you fell for, the same hesitation on his face.
He can’t be here, it doesn’t make sense. However, most of the population has superpowers — so maybe? It made sense, yet didn’t.
