Based Off Of This Post From @holyhaeresis !

Steampunk shigaraki has me twirling my hair and kicking my feet because who told him to look so mafia boss.

Its Tomura's birthday in Japan today!!

Shigaraki would march for women’s rights

self-indulgent little hurt/comfort oneshot. Established Tomura/Reader, no quirks AU, angst with a happy ending. CONTENT WARNING: discussion of suicide and the aftermath of a suicide attempt. This fic is recovery oriented, but please scroll past if you find the content triggering at all.

reentry

The couch in the therapist’s office isn’t very comfortable. Tomura shifts around awkwardly, trying to find a place to lean back that doesn’t make his broken ribs groan with pain, but he’s not having much luck. He thought therapist couches were supposed to be comfortable — sprawl out, kick his feet up, take a nap while some guy tries to analyze his dreams. This doesn’t feel right.

Then again, Tomura tries to kill himself two weeks ago, and he just got released from the hospital half an hour ago. Of course he doesn’t feel like he fits into the world any longer. That’s what happens to people who try to leave — try, and fail. Not that Tomura was planning to fail. His plan was pretty foolproof. Except for one thing.

“Tomura,” the therapist says, and Tomura looks up. “Let’s switch chairs.”

“No,” Tomura says. “I’m fine.”

“You have —“ the therapist consults Tomura’s discharge paperwork “— six broken ribs from CPR, and they aren’t giving you anything stronger than naproxen. And all my clients complain about my couch.”

“Get a new couch, then.”

“Sure,” the therapist says. “Between now and then, switch seats with me.”

“No,” Tomura says. He crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back, and his ribs increase their bitching from a groan to a scream. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If you’re going to be here, you might as well be comfortable,” the therapist says. “You don’t get extra XP for toughing it out. At least not in here.”

“XP?” Tomura snorts. “Did they tell you I like video games or something?”

“Maybe,” the therapist says, unruffled. “Are you switching or not?”

“Fine,” Tomura says. He gets up, grimacing, and the therapist does the same — at which point Tomura realizes that the therapist is a lot taller than he is. “Uh —“

“Thanks.” The therapist plops down on the couch, leaving Tomura to sit down in the chair, which is more comfortable than the couch by a long shot. “So. Which one sucked more — the last two weeks or the two weeks before that?”

“Are you serious?” Tomura laughs, because it feels like the thing he’s supposed to do. “I spent the last two weeks eating hospital food and going to therapy groups and having people look in my mouth to make sure I took my pills. The last two weeks have been shit.”

“But you weren’t on an involuntary hold,” the therapist says. Tomura grimaces. “Once you were medically cleared, you could have left at any time. But you chose to stay. Which leads me to believe that the two weeks before that were worse.”

It’s quiet for a second. “What did you say your name was?” Tomura asks.

“Yamada Hizashi,” the therapist says. He sprawls out on the couch and props his feet up, house slippers and all. “Let’s talk about the other two weeks now.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what they do in inpatient. They pack your head full of distress tolerance and emotion regulation skills and make you do a safety plan, but outpatient is where we get into making sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“How do you know I don’t want it to happen again?”

“Voluntary inpatient,” Yamada says. Tomura rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying — that seems like a lot of shit to go through for no reason.”

Tomura’s tempted to report that there is a reason — so everybody will get off his back long enough for him to make a plan that will work this time. But his heart wouldn’t be in it, not the way it would need to be for him to convince anyone. He might not want to die anymore, but he still doesn’t want to keep living and feeling like this. “A month ago,” he starts. “A month ago I had to testify against the guy who adopted me.”

“How was that?”

“It blew.”

“Yeah?” Yamada sits up. “Tell me more.”

There’s not a ton to tell. Tomura’s testimony was pretty straightforward. Everything that he remembers from his childhood fit pretty neatly into the charges his fake dad was facing from the other victims. Not that Tomura’s a fucking victim or anything. Yamada’s eyebrows go up when Tomura says that, but he doesn’t interrupt, and Tomura goes awkwardly on. “Anyway. I said all the shit, and then the defense attorney got to cross-examine me. He tried pretty hard to trip me up and make me perjure myself. And —“

“And?”

“And I guess triggered me,” Tomura says, fed up. “My girlfriend was ready to chew his head off for that one, but I was fine. I told her that, but she didn’t buy it.”

Looking back, Tomura knows why you didn’t buy it. Why you were never going to buy it, and you were right not to. “Your girlfriend,” Yamada says. “She was the one who found you?”

Tomura’s stomach clenches. “I was fine when we left the courthouse, but things started getting worse. I felt like shit. About everything. Nothing felt good anymore, not even the stuff I like. It all came back up, and it felt so bad. I remembered —“

“Do you need to take a break?” Yamada asks. Tomura gives him a weird look. “You’re scratching.”

He is scratching. Tomura hasn’t done that in a while — or at least he hadn’t, a month ago. After the trial, he was scratching constantly. He pulls his hand away from his neck and forces it down onto the arm of the couch. “I don’t need a break. I need to get this out or I’ll end up right back where I started.”

“Sure, maybe. But think about how we got here. You’re telling me it started with having to vomit all this stuff back up at the trial, and now you’re about to do it again.” Yamada shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against talking about this stuff and I’m not scared of it. What I am worried about is getting into it when you don’t have the tools to calm yourself back down. Do you know what diagnosis they gave you in there?”

“Unrepentant asshole disease?”

Yamada snorts. “Good one. It’s PTSD,” he says. Tomura blinks. “That’s part of why you’re here with me. One component of my practice is something called EMDR — eye movement desensitization and reprocessing — which is designed in part to take the punch out of the things that trigger you. But before we work on that, we start by building some stuff.”

“Building stuff?” Tomura glances around Yamada’s office. “I don’t see any legos.”

“Nah. We’re building stuff in your mind palace,” Yamada says, and cracks a weird grin. Tomura opens his mouth and Yamada keeps talking. “You’re about to tell me that your mind palace is a dumpster fire, and I’m going to tell you that it’s garbage can, not garbage can’t —“

Tomura snorts, then cringes. Yamada notices but doesn’t comment. “And we’re going to build another, smaller dumpster in there. A container for all the shit feelings that this kicks up for you. We’re also gonna build a safe room — somewhere you can go that feels secure and peaceful. Got any places like that?”

“No,” Tomura says. Then he second-guesses it. “Maybe —”

“We’ll get into that in more detail next time,” Yamada says. “Today I just want us to focus on what you were thinking and feeling leading up to the attempt.”

“Isn’t that gonna trigger me?”

“That’s why we’re talking about it in here,” Yamada says. “I want you to be able to notice your feelings and thoughts when they start to take a turn, because that’s the spot where you can interrupt it.”

“Interrupt it,” Tomura repeats. He feels his hand creeping back up towards his neck and yanks it down again. “How?”

“That’s a good spot for your distress tolerance skills,” Yamada says, “but I’d also recommend reaching out for help. Telling somebody you’re struggling.”

“No,” Tomura says. “They don’t need to deal with my shit. They’ve got shit of their own.”

“Yeah. And based on your discharge paperwork, all your friends and your girlfriend came to visit you in the hospital,” Yamada says. “That’s a way bigger hassle than just being there when you need someone to talk to, right?”

Tomura’s not going to get into that. “I did this stuff. On my safety plan.”

“Yeah. But if asking for help isn’t something you’re used to, it helps to plan out exactly what you’ll say,” Yamada says. “And before that, we need to work on recognizing when you need to say something. Ya dig?”

Tomura tries to imagine saying something. Turning to you and telling you he’s thinking about dying, that he loves his friends and loves you but can’t take living when he feels this sick. How would you even answer? Nothing you could say would fix it, and wouldn’t it make you feel bad? To know that Tomura wants to die and —

“You love your girlfriend. Think about which is worse for her,” Yamada says, and Tomura realizes he spoke aloud. “Hearing that you want to die, or coming back and finding you in the middle of it?”

“Don’t guilt-trip me.”

“It’s not a guilt-trip. Just a question.” Yamada shrugs. “Let’s look at it another way. If it were her and not you, which would you rather —”

“I get it, okay?” Tomura’s not going to run away from it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to harp on it. “I’ll make you a deal. We can talk about anything you want as long as it’s not that.”

“Deal,” Yamada says without blinking. “Walk me through the day of.”

They spend the rest of the session working on identifying and naming the kind of feelings that lead to Tomura wanting to off himself. It’s a harder job than Tomura thought it would be. Therapy is weirder than Tomura thought it would be. He can’t decide if it’ll be helpful yet. But it’s somewhere to go that’s not work, so it’s probably worth it for that alone.

Towards the end of the the session, after they’ve scheduled the next one, Yamada hands Tomura the reminder card and leans back against the couch. “This thing is even worse than I remember,” he remarks. “Who’s coming to pick you up?”

“My girlfriend.” Tomura still feels weirdly proud when he says that, even though you’ve been together for going on three years. “She was supposed to get me from the hospital, but her job said they’d fire her if she took any more time off work.”

“She’s been taking some time off?”

“That’s what she said,” Tomura says. “Why are you asking about her?”

“She’s clearly an important person in your life,” Yamada says. Important. That’s understating it. “She also lives with you, which means she’ll be in a position to observe how you’re doing. As she was before.”

“I think she’s okay. She’s been okay when she visited,” Tomura says. “She goes to therapy and everything. Since before I met her.”

You go every week, like clockwork. Tomura couldn’t really figure out why, since you seem normal. “She probably talked this out with her therapist already.”

“I’m sure,” Yamada says. “Still, go easy on each other. Reentry from inpatient is tough, even if you’ve got a soft landing. Go ahead and hang out in the lobby until she gets here. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week,” Tomura agrees. He puts the reminder card in his wallet, in front of his ID, and slinks out onto the lobby. His ribs are still broken, but as long as he’s not leaning or lying on something, he’s okay.

He can see your car parked in the parking lot outside, and you’re leaning against the hood, holding something. As Tomura opens the building and steps out into the weak winter sunlight, he sees that it’s a bouquet of flowers.

You look so pretty standing there, and you smile when you see him, and as Tomura picks his way across the parking lot, your smile grows. Nothing about seeing you fixes what’s wrong with Tomura, but seeing you feels good even when nothing else does. That safe, calm place thing Yamada was talking about — Tomura’s pretty sure it’s somewhere, anywhere, with you.

You open your arms as Tomura reaches you, and he walks into your embrace without breaking stride. You’re careful when you hug him, but Tomura hangs onto you tight, letting his head fall against your shoulder and turning his face into the side of your neck. You smell really good, like always, and your body is soft against his sharp edges, and what Yamada told him to do before feels a little easier to imagine now. He’s told you a lot of things, and they haven’t scared you away just yet.

“Hi,” you say. “How was it in there?”

“It was okay,” Tomura says. “He seems like he has ideas about stuff. And I don’t hate him yet.”

“That’s a good sign.” You hug Tomura a little closer, then let go. You hold out the flowers. “Here. These are for you.”

Tomura wants to hold you, not the flowers, but he takes them anyway. “Why did you get me flowers?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. “It just felt like the right thing to do. Do you feel up for a walk?”

“Huh?”

“I thought it might be nice to get some fresh air before we go home,” you say. “What do you think?”

You’re tense. Tomura’s standing close enough to you that he can feel it. “What’s the real reason?”

“We need to talk,” you say, and Tomura’s blood turns to ice. “Not about anything bad. It’s just — everybody’s coming over to hang out, and some of them are already there, and I want to talk to you beforehand, first.”

“They’re all coming over?” Tomura asks, surprised. “Even Kurogiri?”

“Even him,” you say. You must have had to bring out the big guns to get Kurogiri to stop by. He’s really busy, and the stuff he’s working on can’t exactly be interrupted. “I’d just like to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. Yamada’s building is across from a park. “Over there?”

“Perfect.”

The two of you walk in silence for a little while, Tomura holding the flowers, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, just above the bandages. You were the one who said you and Tomura needed to talk, so Tomura waits for you to speak up, and you do. “Is there something I could have done that would have stopped this?”

“No.” Tomura feels your grip on his arm tighten slightly. “This was all me. Are you — okay?”

“How are your ribs doing?” you ask instead of answering. “When they brought you in they were worried about a sternal fracture, but they never told me anything more about it.”

“No, just the ribs,” Tomura says, and you nod. “Are you going to answer me?”

“No, because this isn’t about me. I’m not going to make this about me.”

“It is,” Tomura says. “We’re together. We live together. You’re the one who found me.”

“I’m the one who broke your ribs,” you interrupt, and Tomura stops walking to stare at you. “You were still alive when I got there, but you stopped breathing while I was on the phone with emergency services. I’m the one who started CPR.”

Fucking hell. “I didn’t mean —” Tomura breaks off, struggling for a nice way to put it. “It wasn’t supposed to be you. You weren’t supposed to find me.”

Tomura put a lot of thought into killing himself. He waited until a weekend you went home to visit your family, so you’d be around people who love you when you got the call. He didn’t want anyone to have to find him, but he knew someone would, so he asked one of his neighbors if they could watch Moro for a few hours, telling them he’d pick Moro up at ten-thirty. When he didn’t come to pick Moro up, the neighbor would figure out something was wrong and call the cops, and the cops would find Tomura once it was already too late. It should have worked. It would have worked, except —

Tomura thinks about what you would have seen when you got home and feels misery rush up and over his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he says. “Why did you come back?”

“I got a bad feeling.” You won’t make eye contact with Tomura. You’re staring off into space in a way that looks too familiar, a way Tomura understands deep in his bones. “I get anxious sometimes over nothing. I can cope with anxious. But this was, like — they say people get a sense of impending doom before they have a heart attack. It felt like that. And I knew I was fine. So it had to be you.”

Tomura didn’t tip you off somehow. He didn’t hint or leave something undone or do anything to make you think that when you kissed him goodbye it would be the last time you ever saw him. Tomura did everything right. And you still knew. “So you turned around.”

“I almost killed myself hanging a u-turn across four lanes of traffic,” you say. “I called emergency services before I even got out of the car. But your plan was too good. Even with all of that I was almost too late.”

The two of you are still walking, somehow. Tomura stops, and so do you. “And ever since they told me you were going to make it,” you say, your voice tight and shaky, “I’ve been wondering if you’re mad at me for coming back. If you wish I hadn’t broken your ribs. If you —”

“No.” Tomura’s still holding the flowers you gave him. He doesn’t want to put them down. “I feel like shit about what happened.”

“I don’t want to make you feel like shit —“

“I know. It’s not you. It’s me. And my therapist said I have to tell you how I feel when I feel like that.” Tomura wonders if it would be stupid to walk back to Yamada’s office and tell him he needs another hour of therapy. “Everything felt so bad. I wanted it to stop and I didn’t care how, and I didn’t see another way out. But I want to. That’s why I stayed in the hospital and I’m seeing a therapist and I’m going to keep taking the stupid antidepressants even if they make my dick stop working —“

Your mouth twitches slightly. “They make more than one kind of antidepressant. We can find one that doesn’t do that.”

“Fine.” Tomura doesn’t actually know if his antidepressants fuck with his libido. He hasn’t been on them long enough, and the PTSD is probably enough to kill any mood for a while. “I want to find another way out. And I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to if you hadn’t come back. I’m not mad. I just — I wish you hadn’t had to see that.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t done it?” you ask, then cringe. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tomura doesn’t want to have to tell Yamada he lied to you about stuff. He has a feeling Yamada will hassle him about it next week. “At the hospital they said people regret it right after they do it. That’s why so many people call the hospital on themselves. And I —”

Tomura trails off, considering the moments before he passed out. Remembering how he thought he’d feel lighter, and how he felt so much heavier instead, a huge weight pressing down on his chest with nowhere to go. He didn’t feel peaceful. He felt wrong. “I thought it was probably too late to stop it. So I didn’t try. But I would have if I’d thought it would work.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath, let it go, and Tomura wonders if you’ve been worried about this the whole time. If you expected him to get mad at you for saving him. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this today. I felt like I had to know.”

“My therapist said I have to get used to talking to people about this stuff,” Tomura reminds you. Your mouth turns down at one corner. “It’s fine. I probably owe you a lot of explanations anyway.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. You wipe under your eyes. “Let’s go home. Do you want to grab anything on the way?”

“Is there food at this party you’re throwing?” Tomura asks. You nod. “I want to go home.”

It’s quiet on the drive back to the apartment. Tomura has his hand on your leg, since you won’t hold his hand while you’re driving, and he watches you. You’re a good driver, so safe it’s almost boring. It’s hard to imagine you driving the way you must have to get home in time to stop him.

Tomura would drive like that if he thought you were in trouble. If he got stuck in traffic he’d get out of his car and run the rest of the way to you. Tomura wonders if you know that. Maybe not. If you did, you wouldn’t have thought he’d be mad at you for bringing him back.

“Hey,” he says, and because you’re at a stoplight, you look at him. “I love you. You know that, right? Even if I don’t say it a lot —”

“I know,” you say. “You don’t have to say it for me to know.”

Sure — but Tomura’s thinking about what Yamada said. Saying how he feels. Maybe that goes for feelings that aren’t bad, too. “I know you know. I’m still gonna say it. Get used to it.”

The corner of your mouth pulls up in a slight smile. You detach one hand from the steering wheel, lift Tomura’s hand off your thigh, and kiss it, only letting him go when the light turns green. “I love you, too.”

“I know.”

Tomura thinks about the flowers you got him. His friends who are waiting for him at home. His dog, who’s probably going to ignore him for a month to pay him back for leaving. His broken ribs and the fact that he definitely lost his job and the knowledge that even as he’s getting better, he has a lot of shitty days ahead. But Moro will forgive him eventually. Tomura’s friends still love him, and so do you. Even amidst everything that’s gone wrong, Tomura knows there’s plenty of things worth hanging on for.

And if he ever needs a reminder, you’re right there. Next to him as he walks back into his apartment, next to him as he hugs his friends and Kurogiri, next to him all night long and still there in the morning. There’s no way Tomura can forget. He remembers every time he looks at you.

✨🤠✨

Oh! Here the fluff one. Can you do a vice-dorm leader accidentally seeing their s/o that taking a bath in the lake (or maybe river?) near ramshackle dorm because the water in the dorm is not working.

Wanna see a bird dad get scold and whack. With fem s/o please~

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2,095

Pairings: Trey Clover x f!reader, Ruggie Bucchi x f!reader, Jade Leech x f!reader, Jamil Viper x f!reader, Rook Hunt x f!reader, Lilia Vanrouge x f!reader

Trey had thought he was being nice. You had complained to him that the water at Ranshackle was spotty at the best of times.

And now you were having even more issues. To the point you had a hard time getting enough water to cook with

So there he was, standing at your door with a tupperware full of warm dinner and after a full 5 minutes you had still not answered

So he decided to look around for you.

And when he made his way down the path, to the far reaches of the dorm where the river was. To say he was shocked was an understatement

There you were, in the waist high water, back to him, water making your skin glisten in the evening sun. Fully naked.

He immediately screwed his eyes shut, turning away from you. He certainly did now want to see anymore of you without your express permission

Now after his mind could back up to the situation, Trey became less mortified and more worried. People walked through this area, what if someone saw you!

"Um, sweetheart? Its me Trey, I have my back turned but um... perhaps you could come out? I'm a little worried that someone might accidentally end up peeping on you. Since it is after dinner and well...because I almost did."

Trey apologises for the invasion of your privacy, but he does try and make it better through making you a delicious dessert for after you eat the dinner he made you.

Ruggie had heard that the fish in the river that ran past Ramshakle were huge because of the lack of people who disturbed them.

So there he was, standing by the river's edge expecting to find an empty river bank and a body of water full of fish

And what did he find but a wet uniform, laid over a rock drying in the sun, and the very much naked body of which the uniform belonged to

In absolute shock, Ruggie dropped his gear, which fell to the ground with a clatter loud enough to call attention to him

"Y-Y/N, um. Wow. Wait no! I'm sorry I didn't mean to peep. I just wanted to fish! Okay okay I'll go, no need to- did you just throw a rock at me?"

Ruggie feigned hurt, how could his sweet significant other throw stones at him for simply wishing to fish. He was only trying to be a resourceful hyena, not a peeping tom.

With a good natured laugh, he hightailed it out of that area, his cheeks a nice rosy pink from shame, leaving you alone to continue your bath.

What Ruggie didn't expect was for the thoughts about what you looked like as you bathed to haunt him while he waited for a bite.

Ruggie will freely admit, he is not innocent by a long stretch, and as his significant other he admits you have starred in some fantasies of his. But never quite like this before; in his fantasies you had never looked so, breath taking.

He definitely had to give up on the hunt for a free fish dinner that evening, his head was far too full of other thoughts to focus.

It was times like this that Jade found himself regretting going along with Azul's plans

How Floyd had managed to drop a very important artifact into an out of the way lake half hour from Ramshakle and a whole hour's hike from where he should have taken it was beyond Jade

And because Floyd refused to fix his mistake, and Azul was too "busy" read self conscious to swim down and get it himself Jade had to down a potion to not only revert the transformation to a human, but find one that would let him breathe without the lake water killing him.

So there at the bottom of the muck was Jade, artifact in hand when a splash above him drew his attention away from his thoughts of what he would do to Floyd as punishment.

Above him was a human, a clearly naked human. One who looked a bit like they were bathing close to the dock.

So being an unfortunately inquisitive eel he approached hiding amongst the dark water under the dock, he sat, hoping to spook the human standing in the chest height water before making his discreet escape. Afterall he definitely needed to burn off some steam before going back to Azul

To his glee, the human was not just any, but his significant other. You truly looked gorgeous, the water dripping down your back making delightful trails across your skin. It was so very tempting for him to just swim up and take a bite of your exposed flesh.

Placing the artifact down, Jade approached, keeping as low to the lake bed as possible while not alerting you to his presence.

You jolted when you felt something trail up your inner thigh and wrap around it, but were willing to brush it off as a plant until you found yourself being tugged down into the water by large hands. The gentle kiss you received once you were fully submerged was certainly a shock too.

Jade forced down the urge to grin as he nibbled on your bottom lip, a hand placed on your hip while the other tangled into your hair. As he pulled you both back to the surface, his tail wrapped around your leg still Jade found that smile creeping back up again.

"Yes, perhaps I will blow off some steam before going back to Azul. Afterall, such an opportunity to have my Dearest like this wouldn't be terribly common."

Jamil needed a break desperately. Kalim had thrown yet another party and then even though he promised Jamil help with the take down after it was done. But Kalim had forgotten and left it all to him, again

So there he was knocking at the door of Ramshakle, waiting to be let in so he could vent about his day to you. His darling significant other, his Desert Blossom, the one person who sees him as a person and not just for his relationship to Kalim. And at this time that is exactly what Jamil needs.

To his surprise Grim opened the door. "Nyaa what do ya want, I was napping. Oh its you Jamil, looking for my human? Well they're not here, they're down at the waterfall...They're having a bath I think, said the water in the door was black and smelt funny."

Now Jamil was a little confused, why would you not tell him about the unsafe water at Ramshackle, he would have been happy to let you use his shower. He was also mildly annoyed at Grim shutting the door in his face, so he made his way down to where grim had motioned towards

When he heard the water but still couldn't quite see anything more than the top of the waterfall, but not the pool below he called out to you, "Y/N, Blossom, grim told me you were down here, may I sit and speak to you? I have quite a bit of frustration to get off my chest and would appreciate if you would listen."

Jamil had expected you to say sure, stay there and we can chat, not for you to extend the invitation to join you. He was a little embarrassed but, something in him snapped. The thought of getting to hold you in his arms right then, was too much, and before he knew it, his hands were tugging off his outfit and laying it all on a rock where it wouldn't get wet

Within a few moments he was entering the pool gracefully, and like he desired, had you in his arms. What he didn't anticipate was the gentle caressing hands that came up to run through his wet, loose hair.

And so as he stood in the chest height water where you were, he began to tell all about his frustrations. Carefully ignoring the fact he could feel your bare chest against his own.

He eventually was coaxed into sitting down on a near by rock so you could wash his hair and back for him. He needed to relax, and what better way for him to do so than to have you his lovely s/o pamper him like a king.

To get it out of the way, Rook absolutely knew you would be going to the river to bathe. He had been watching you since you left Ramshakle, arms full with your toiletry and laundry bags

He had no perverted thoughts in mind, only the vague thought of how long it would take you to notice his presence, and daydreams about how you would look like a beautiful water nymph from legends

And he was right! You did look lovely, sitting on the river bed as you washed. Hair slicked back from your face, giving him a gorgeous view of your face.

Rook was so overwhelmed with affection for you that he found himself slipping his notebook from his pocket to write a sweet note to you about how positively gorgeous you looked in this moment

The 3 page (front and back) poem he penned in that moment, was full of all the emotions you instilled in his heart. All his appreciation, all the dreams and hopes for a future with you he deeply desired, and it was all for you, his bunny.

The dull sound of something hitting the tree close to where you sat, made you look up, immediately recognising the note pinned with an arrow was what it was that made the sound. You stood up, carelessly grabbibg for something to cover you and preserve what little modesty you had left

"Rook Hunt! You get your ass out here right now or so help me I will personally rip up that hat you love so damn much. DO YOU HEAR ME ASSHOLE!"

The soft "très beauté" that came from you left had you picking up as many rocks as you could and throwing them at the retreating form of man you were dating.

Once you were certain he was gone, you quickly dressed and made your way over to the note. It was a lovely poem, how Rook managed to write such nice sonnets with barely any effortalways astounded you.

Was it incredibly annoying that he seemingly had no regard for boundaries? At times yes. But at least he was always ensuring that you clearly knew how much he loved and appreciated all of you, imperfections and all.

Lilia really hadn't meant to spy on you, but when he heard that his little Honeybee was shooing away Malleus from Ramshackle's Gardens despite the strong friendship between you two

Well it peaked his interest to say the least. What were you planning? A surprise perhaps?

That was the mindset he had when he approached. A surprise he got! Just mot the kind he was expecting. There sitting on the bank of the river was you, naked at the day you were born, head full of soap suds.

A bath? That's why you were banning Malleus from wandering around until the clock struck 9. Interesting!

Deciding to tease you he appeared behind you silently and spoke next to your ear "I mean I too love the feeling of cool river water but, dont you think modern plumbing is a little more convient Honeybee?"

The yelp of shock as you flailed away from him was worth the shampoo bottle thrown at his face. The conditioner that smacked into his throat was less funny when he choked.

"Thats not funny Lilia! Ow ow owie, now I got soap in my eye! Damn you and your bats right back to the hole you crawled your way out of"

Lilia chuckled again, the mild nature of the insults you were lobbing his way only amusing him further.

"Turn around dear, let me apologise by washing your hair out for you." And so he did. His hand covering your now red eyes as he rinsed out the soap from your locks. His fingers gently working along your hair as he made sure that the conditioner he  grabbed, after it was used to throat punch him, permeated all the hair

It was absolutely heavenly for you, and as you melted into his careful and adoring touches, the song Lilia had begun to hum lulling you into a peaceful almost meditative state. All you could think was, perhaps you should make him do this again.

Thank you for the request Dear. I hope you enjoyed reading it.

I want to make it clear, I know Ruggie is not a vice dorm leader but...I haven't gotten to write for my hyena boy yet so he shall be a bonus. For future reference, I will most likely include Ruggie in vice dorm leader posts when I can since so many others in the fandom do as well.

If you liked the post and want to see more from me feel free to send me a request . See you soon~

Sincerely, Jupiter

5 Years into the future - part 4.

I'm very upset that I didn't get his club card...

Lovely movie

Straume (Flow) 2024, dir. Gints Zilbalodis

did father leech's genes even try

🧡🧡

Gamer boyfriend

Shigaraki x fem reader

Warnings: mentions of sex and swearing

Shigaraki was in a good mood today—or at least what passed for one with him. He went from his usual 80% dickhead to maybe 25%. The bar wasn’t high, but hey, I’d take it.

I found him in his room, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his TV. He had his headset on, practically glued to his head, and his attention was locked onto some violent shooter game. He was yelling—no, swearing—at whoever was on the other end of that connection. Judging by the squeaky voices I could hear leaking through his headset, it was probably a group of kids who didn’t even hit puberty yet.

“Fucking useless!” he barked, his red eyes narrowing at the screen. “Do you even know what a headshot is? Jesus Christ, this is ranked, you little shits!”

I stepped into the room quietly, half-wondering if he’d notice me, but he didn’t even glance up. There was a pile of empty candy wrappers and crushed energy drink cans surrounding him, like some kind of gremlin nest. He had his gloves on, the special ones that left his ring finger and pinky covered so he didn’t destroy everything he touched, but it didn’t seem to make him any less intense.

I sat down on his bed without saying a word, folding my legs under me and leaning back against the wall. It was... fascinating, honestly, watching him like this. His white hair stuck out in all directions, soft and messy, and his posture was slouched but tense. The way he glared at the screen, like his life depended on winning, was kind of adorable—in a chaotic, slightly terrifying way.

“Nice fucking try!” he yelled again, his voice sharp and gravelly. “Are you blind, or just stupid? God, what are you, twelve?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they probably were twelve. Instead, I stayed quiet, watching him with a small, amused smile. He didn’t need me to jump in, and I wasn’t going to ruin his “good mood” by nagging him about the literal garbage pile he was sitting in.

He shifted forward suddenly, leaning closer to the screen as if that would help. His long fingers tightened on the controller, his knuckles almost white. “I swear to God, if one more of you little shits camps the spawn point, I’m—”

He didn’t finish the threat, but whatever he was planning, it wasn’t good.

I bit back a laugh, resting my chin on my knee. It was just... so him. Completely absorbed in his game, fully prepared to verbally eviscerate some kids for being bad at it. And the way he was sitting, cross-legged with his back hunched and his hair falling in his face, made him look like some kind of pale, pissed-off cat.

The wrappers crinkled as he shifted again, and I mentally counted the empty energy drink cans. Five. No, wait, six. His poor heart.

I thought about saying something—maybe a casual, “Hey, Tomura, ever heard of water?”—but honestly, I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Instead, I just sat there and watched him, letting him do his thing. It was... kind of nice, actually, seeing him so into something that wasn’t murder or destruction. He looked weirdly peaceful, in a chaotic way.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of me found it a little cute. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

I couldn’t help it—I let out a giggle. It just slipped out, quiet and soft, but enough to catch his attention. To my surprise, he actually turned around to look at me.

There was something... different about the way he looked at me, though. He still had that irritated edge, but beneath it was something weirdly lighter, softer. Happier. Well, as happy as Tomura Shigaraki could look without spontaneously combusting from emotional vulnerability.

His red eyes flicked between me and the screen, like he was weighing his options. Meanwhile, he still had his mic on, so the obscenities didn’t stop. “Spawn camping again? Are you brain-dead, or just naturally this fucking useless?” he growled at some poor kid. But then, whenever his eyes landed on me, his expression shifted. His usual scowl melted into something disturbingly... friendly. For him, anyway.

I blinked at him, unsure what to make of it, until he shifted slightly. He uncrossed his legs, creating just enough space on his lap, and then mouthed silently, “Come sit on my lap.”

I froze, staring at him like he’d just asked me to slap him across the face. What?

He didn’t repeat himself out loud, but his expression sharpened. He gave me that look—the one that said, Don’t make me fucking ask again.

Still confused, I tilted my head at him. Normally, he wasn’t... this affectionate. At least not so randomly. He’d cling, sure, but this? This was a whole new level.

His red eyes narrowed, and his gloved hand tapped the floor impatiently. Hurry up, his gaze practically screamed.

I hesitated for another second, torn between laughing at how bizarre this was and actually doing what he wanted. Eventually, curiosity won out, and I slid off the bed to make my way toward him.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder: What the hell has gotten into him?

I got up, and Tomura shifted his controller to one hand, making just enough room for me. Without hesitation, I slid onto his lap, wrapping myself around him koala bear style. My legs draped slightly over his waist, and I buried my face into his neck, inhaling the faint mix of cologne (a poor substitute for a shower, as usual) and candy.

He barely reacted to my presence, other than to adjust slightly, resting his chin on top of my head. The side of my face pressed against his throat, and I could feel the vibrations of his voice as he continued his tirade.

“Fuck this—fucking campers again? Are you idiots physically incapable of playing fair?” His voice was a growl, sharp and cutting, laced with venom. “Go crawl back into your mother’s basement, you loser. Fucking embarrassing. How old are you, twelve?”

I cozied up closer to him, nuzzling my head against his neck, letting my hair brush against his skin. My arms tightened around his waist, squeezing him just below his ribs. He shifted slightly, his free arm now lightly draped over my back as if to keep me there, all while he kept the profanity flowing.

“Of course you’re hiding behind a wall. That’s all you fucking know how to do, huh? Pathetic. No wonder your mom doesn’t fucking love you.”

His voice was a mix of irritation and amusement, and I couldn’t help but smile against his neck. He was so ridiculously into it, as if demolishing kids online was his personal mission.

“Nice fucking try, dumbass. Did you think that’d work? God, you’re stupid. I bet your dad left just so he wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore.”

Despite the relentless swearing, his grip on me softened, as if my presence grounded him, even in his little digital war. I rubbed my cheek against his neck again, feeling the warmth of his rough skin.

He was so absurd, so unapologetically himself, that I couldn’t help but find it... endearing. In the strangest way possible.

Tomura reached for one of the six energy drink cans scattered around him, picking the one that was still half-full with one hand while the other continued navigating the game with almost surgical precision. He tilted the can back, taking a long sip, completely unfazed that his mic was still on and broadcasting the sound of his gulps to the kids on the other side.

Then, without skipping a beat, he tapped the side of my head with the cold can. I looked up at him, shaking my head with a small smile, silently saying, No, thank you.

His red eyes narrowed slightly, and he huffed. “Come on, babe, drink some. It’s yummy,” he said out loud, voice dripping with mock encouragement. I shot him a look, and he scowled right back at me. “It’s good for you.”

“Good for you?” I scoffed. “That stuff’s gonna make your heart explode.”

He rolled his eyes, groaning. “Whatever. Someone’s gotta drink it.” He then shifted slightly, still somehow playing the game, his focus unwavering as he tried a different approach. “Come on, open up,” he said, leaning the can closer to my mouth and making an exaggerated “Aaaaahhh!” noise, like he was feeding a toddler.

I hesitated, narrowing my eyes at him. “Fine, but just a sip,” I muttered. He tipped the can toward me, and the instant the liquid hit my tongue, I winced. It was like drinking carbonated battery acid.

“Ugh! Yuck!” I grimaced, pulling back quickly.

“Yeah yeah,” he said with a shrug, taking another swig. “Your loss.”

That’s when one of the kids on the other side of the mic piped up, voice cracking with curiosity. “Who the fuck are you talking to?”

Tomura didn't even bat an eye at the gasps from the kids on the other end of the mic. "Oh, my girlfriend," he replied coolly, his voice dripping with disdain. "Not that any of you celibate incel losers would know what that’s like."

I couldn't help but giggle at his bluntness. "Tomura, be nice to the children," I teased, though I knew it wouldn't change anything.

He smirked, his eyes still glued to the screen as he blasted through his game. "No, babe. They're fucking losers who camp. No matter how many times I've told them not to. I mean, come on, babe, these kids are probably all failed abortions."

I could hear the shocked gasps on the other side of the mic, and I quickly put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "Be nice, baby," I said, my voice light and teasing.

Tomura barely acknowledged it, just rolling his eyes. "No, I don't think I will. Someone’s gotta teach these losers that their generation is all a bunch of iPad, Cheeto-fingered fuckers who probably want their mom."

The sheer absurdity of his words made me burst into laughter. I couldn't hold it in anymore, my sides shaking with how funny it was.

I leaned in to kiss the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my lips. He turned his head slightly, planting a quick, almost absent-minded kiss on my cheek.

“Stop laughing,” he muttered, though his lips were curled into a smile—something he’d never admit.

I felt a little bolder, the playful urge rising in me. I couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a bit. Slowly, I slipped my hands under his hoodie and pressed them against his side, just lightly at first, before digging in with a quick tickle.

"HEY! Wait—HEY! HEY!" Tomura jolted, the game momentarily forgotten. I could feel him squirming under my touch, his voice going high-pitched for a second in surprise.

I smirked but pulled my hands back slightly, stopping when I saw the glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really angry... maybe just a little annoyed.

"I’ll stop," I said, keeping my hands underneath his shirt now, my fingertips gently tracing up and down his back, the hard lines of his muscles shifting under my touch.

His jaw clenched briefly, and I could feel him getting tense again, but then, to my surprise, he leaned into me, his face pressing gently against the side of my head.

"Just so you guys know," he said loud enough for the mic to catch it, his voice dripping with that smug confidence. "My girlfriend’s feeling up on me right now—something none of you lame bitch-ass losers will ever experience."

There was an uncomfortable silence from the kids on the other end of the mic, probably processing his words. Meanwhile, Tomura’s hands paused on his controller for a split second, like he was savoring the moment.

He nuzzled into me again, a quiet sound escaping his throat that was so rare from him—something close to affection but hidden under that usual mask of indifference. "Yeah, none of you punks are gonna get to to get touched like this. fucking losers.," he added more softly, his voice slightly more tender than before, though still carrying that mocking tone.

I couldn’t help but smile, rubbing my thumb lightly across his back, letting him know without words that I wasn’t bothered by his cocky attitude—if anything, I liked how he acted like a prick, but I knew better than anyone there was more under the surface.

As if to emphasize his point, he turned his head just slightly, pressing his lips to my temple before pulling back just enough to give me that familiar smirk. "You know I don’t need any of you assholes to back me up. You bitches are all dead wait."

And as much as he tried to act unaffected by the gesture, I knew, deep down, that he appreciated the closeness—more than he'd ever admit.

Not my fan art!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna go on it)

@itsafairytalekay @starlightanyaaa @sillysushi @haruhatake @canigotosleep--plz @mistymuii @moonchhu @dekusdante @eis1kitsune @yumii-34 @anemo-fandango @tibibibi123 @hargun-s

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