Writer's Block

Tomura Shigaraki - Flowers

Flowers – Tomura Shigaraki
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Trans!male!reader.

Tomura Shigaraki swore under his breath for the umpteenth time in a span of ten minutes, though slightly louder than the last swore that had fallen from his scarred lips. He’d spent nearly an hour in the local flower shop, which was a difficult enough journey on its own. To make matters worse, every associate and patron in the building recognized the blue-haired ex-villain, and despite his lack of evil activity for the last three years, no one believed that he had truly changed. Every step Shigaraki took drew the attention of a dozen onlookers, and had he not promised a special someone that he was done killing, he’d have already wrapped a hand around each and every neck in the vicinity so they would let him be.
He’d been browsing the same selection of (f/color) flowers for the past forty minutes, and the second he would reach out- cautiously, he might add- to caress one and judge its worth, someone would gasp, or yelp, or holler, or otherwise distract him, and instead of touching the stem with a couple of fingers, he would startle and wrap his hand around the flower, reducing it to ashes in a matter of seconds.
Despite his deepest attempts to do good, the shop owner still feared the scarred man, which meant he didn’t have the courage to charge Shigaraki for the dozens of plants he’d destroyed. The ex-villain really didn’t want to have to pay for a dozen dead roses that he couldn’t even use.
“Please stop staring at me,” he finally groaned, hanging his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need some damn flowers, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Skeptical, the other patrons nodded and slowly backed away from the blue-haired man, giving him space. With three gentle fingers, Shigaraki plucked a handful of (f/color) flowers from their vase before shuffling up to the counter to purchase them. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, withdrawing his wallet and flopping it open. The cashier rang up his selections and voiced the total, and Shigaraki sighed at the shakiness of his words. He slid a bundle of bills across the counter and picked up his now wrapped bouquet with four fingers, sauntering out of the shop without waiting for his change.
Luckily for him, the hospital was a short walk from the florist. He didn’t trust himself driving after all of the anxiety from the last hour, and he needed the fresh air if he was going to enter a hospital full of emotional citizens.

He reached the tall white building and sighed to himself. He couldn’t imagine the people inside offering him any better reactions than those inside the flower shop. He should be used to it by now, he mused. But then, society should know that he was no longer a villain by now.
Shigaraki stepped inside, heading straight for the reception desk. At least the receptionist didn’t shriek or run from her desk at the sight of him. He’d been present when you’d been admitted, and they had informed him of when he would he able to return to visit you.
“(Y/N) (l/n),” he murmured, and the receptionist nodded.
“Room 309,” she offered with a soft smile. “Down the hall to the right, you’ll find the elevator. Go up to the third floor, go down the hallway to the left, it’ll be on the right hand side.”
Shigaraki nodded, clutching the flower bouquet as tightly as he could with four fingers. He followed her instructions, pressing the “up” button to summon the elevator. He stood motionless until it arrived, slipping inside quietly. He tapped the button for the third floor and waited impatiently for the shaft to take him there.
Stepping off the elevator, he turned to his left, spotting the appropriate hallway. His heart pounded in his chest as he padded closer to your room. Glancing up at the numbers beside the doors, he found 309 and steeled himself. He knocked gently, listening for your voice.
“Come in.”
Using only a few fingers to turn the handle, he shouldered open the door, letting it fall closed behind him. He stepped around the privacy curtain so that he could see you, and a soft smile graced his chapped lips.
“Hey you,” you greeted with a grin. Your chest was wrapped in bandages, and you were sitting up, propped up against the pillows.
“Hey,” he returned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like a weight’s been lifted,” you giggled. “Seriously, though, I feel amazing.”
He nodded. “That’s good. You look good.”
“Aw,” you grinned. Shigaraki wasn’t great with compliments, or comfort, or emotions, but he really tried with you, and you had learned how to decipher his personal brand of affection. Glancing down, you spotted a patch of (f/color) on his lap. “Are those for me?”
A soft blush was evident on his fair skin, and he nodded frantically. Lifting it carefully, he passed the bouquet to you, crimson eyes falling to his lap shyly.
“Oh, Tomo,” you cooed, bringing the flowers to your nose to inhale their scent. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you, Tomo.”
His blush deepened at the nickname. You had started it early on in your relationship, and he had fought it hard in the beginning. After several months of your insistence, he grew fond of it, and eventually stopped protesting.
“I’m glad,” he murmured. “It was awful trying to get them.”
You frowned, tilting your head. “What? Why?”
He exhaled a sigh. “People.”
You understood immediately. You knew how hard he had struggled to give up his villainous life, and you knew that majority of society refused to believe it. He had ceased being evil for the desire to be with you, though you hadn’t required it. You’d gotten an apartment together, under your name of course, and he gave up the League of Villains. His crew was rather angry, but with a threat of wrapping all five of his fingers around their throats, they gave in and let him go.
His right hand was balled in a fist, and you took it in your hands. His gaze shot up to your face immediately, alarm evident in his eyes. Even after three years, he was still hesitant to touch you, or let you close to his hands.
You carefully uncurled his fingers, one by one, until his hand was flat. You then pressed his palm and fingers to your cheek, leaving his thumb extended, and placed your hands over his.
“I love you,” you murmured, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. “I know who you are, Tomura. I know you’re trying. I know you’re not going to just snap and become a villain again. Even if the world never believes in you, I always will.”
Careful to keep his thumb away, Shigaraki leaned in, his eyes falling closed as he brushed his lips against yours. You responded immediately, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You rested a hand on his cheek, humming into his mouth before he pulled away just enough to look at you. His nose nudged against yours, and you giggled softly.
“I love you, (y/n),” he murmured.
“I love you too, Tomura,” you returned, leaning in for another kiss.