There are millions of them, bright collections of lavender lilacs and pleasant pink daises in a field, their petals soft and their perfumy scent drifting in the air, with small blades of grass that would tickle your stocking-covered ankles, buzzing bees and fruit flies bustling around, making you squeal whenever they got too close for comfort. The evening sun all hazy in the sky, peaking out through soft cotton ball clouds, warm rays being cast down.

It's special, the way Shigaraki holds you close, the two of you resting under one of the sweet peach trees, bony fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, lips shimmery from the fresh fruit you're sharing, sugary trails of juice at your jaw.

"What a mess..." He grumbles, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips, reaching out to wipe your chin.