concept drawl ... tomura shigaraki x reader
Tomura Shigaraki hasn't seen you express real happiness in his entire time of knowing you. There's always a wall of toughness that you build with hard brick to prevent anybody from ever getting in. And maybe that's his fault, but it wasn't like he ever asked to be put in this house with you and told to get better.
He knows you've been thrown into this stress just as he has. You're not even a top hero, just barely making it up here. Yet you're tasked with housing Japan's number one supervillain of your time, to feed and clothe him, and to talk to him. Teach him things. Show him how to be good to people, normal. Whenever he goes to say something to you unprompted, you bring a hand to your face to massage your temple. Your eyebrows furrow and your resting face frown deepens.
This morning he actually tried to make you smile by waking up early and sneaking into the kitchen to attempt breakfast. Instead, he found out about the alert that goes off when he exits his bedroom door between the hours of 11 pm to 6 am (the hours you're asleep.) You'd jumped from your bed at the sound, an hour before you normally wake up, and stormed into the hallway to catch him.
Before he could say a thing, you were drilling him on staying in bed and listening for once. Things you never would have said if you weren't half asleep, but he didn't know that. He was hurt. He thought he'd been doing a good job of pretending to be somebody with a heart.
You had no hope in him, just like he thought. Everything he did, everything he said, was evil to you.
After your outburst, you started trembling. He saw it in your shoulders and felt it in your hands as you ushered him back into his room and shut the door on his face. It wasn't the first time a hero had shut him out, but it hurt more than it had in a long time as you were someone he'd spent every waking moment with for the last few months.
Tonight, Tomura sits in bed completely still and thinks about what he's done to lead up to this rehab, and what his future will look like. He imagines it will soon be himself strapped to a chair in a high security prison with a white jumpsuit and guns to his head. It will probably hurt, and you might be there initiating it.
"I just couldn't do it anymore," you will say, "he is the most disgusting human being I've ever met. I can't even look at him. It makes me sick."
This will make him cry, and then he will die.
Before he has time for any more bad thoughts to manifest, there's a gentle knock on the door followed by your voice. "Tomura, can I please come in?"
"Whatever."
You're still dressed in the same pajamas from earlier, but you're holding two plates of food that look mouth-wateringly good to he who hasn't eaten since last night's dinner. He was nervous about leaving his room, not wanting to stir anything up. You approach him shyly before offering the plate to him and sitting on the floor with your own. It's mashed potatoes and seasoned chicken breast, with some corn. He loves when you make food instead of ordering, even if he never admits it. It makes him feel appreciated in a way he hasn't been before. His villain life was full of fast food and really gross pizza.
"I'm proud of you, Tomura." His fork catches on his tongue as he stares at you with a subtle expression of shock and confusion. "I just.. I've been really stressed out. It's hard. I'm only 23. I don't come from a family of heroes or anything like that, so I've been trying to make a real name for myself forever, and the first time I'm recognized is for this. It's not that I don't love getting to help you, if I can call it that, but it's just not what my heart has always wanted. I'm made to fight, you know? I was eating boxed macaroni until you. I'm not a very.. domestic person."
This is the most Tomura's ever heard you speak, let alone lament at all. You've always been a private person, at least towards him, and he didn't really press for the personal stuff because 1. he didn't really care for a while, and 2. he'd hate if you did the same back to him.
But the way you're looking at him like he's real and physical makes him want to tell you about everything he's been through. All of the abuse and the dead friends and family he's struggled to say goodbye to and never told anyone about.
"Hey, that makes two of us, y/n."
"What part?"
"Oh. The fighting part."
"Right," you nod with a line-lipped smile and a mouth full of delicious food. Floor food... must be nice, right? He starts to feel guilty about the difference in level, so he slides off the bed to join you. "But I promise you, I don't regret any of this. I just.. thought I'd tell you so you know why I suck so bad at keeping cool and being all patient."
Tomura watches a singular tear well in your eye before you wipe it away nonchalantly and pretend it wasn't ever there. He's done that a few times before, but he doesn't really cry much anymore. Not as much as he did when he was young.
"I think you're better at it than you think you are," he says as he scoops some buttery potatoes onto his spoon, "sometimes, like when we're watching TV or cooking together, it kind of feels like you're my wife or something."
Really, he wouldn't have said it if he knew what was coming out of his mouth when he did. Words were just slipping off his tongue without him having any sort of control. It could be the food, or it could be your eyes. Still, it's true. He's developed a strange fascination with you (though he's convinced himself it's the proximity that's made him feel this way and not you specifically, like he'd fall for anybody if they gave him the chance.)
You're looking for the mischief in his eyes, just in case he's trying to fuck with you, and when you can't find it you awkwardly laugh off the comment and glue your eyes to your half eaten dinner instead.
"Yep. Definitely sticking to the fighting scene after this," you joke. Tomura's ears perk at the "after" but he doesn't dare question yet in fear of the answer. Where will he go "after" this? Can he stay with you, forever? Will you let him?
"Well, why not?"
"What do you mean?"
"Let's brawl."
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," you smile at him, flexing your arm. "Don't you forget they've taken your quirk. You're skin and bones."
"Try me!"
