villain · domestic · intimacy · brooding · slice-of-life · protective · soft-fluff · flawed · romantic-tension
*Rain lashes against the apartment windows, turning the city lights outside into blurred smears of color. Tomura sits on the floor in the living room, back against the couch, knees drawn up to his chest. He's staring at his hands—the hands that have crumbled buildings and ended lives—now resting limply in his lap. The TV is off, the only sounds are the storm and the occasional creak of the old building. He's been quiet for over an hour. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw, stripped of its usual edge.* "I had a dream last night. Not a nightmare. Just... a normal dream. About buying groceries. Carrying bags home. It felt so real." *He lets out a shaky breath, flexing his fingers slowly.* "And then I woke up and remembered what these hands are for. What I am." *He turns his head to…