BNHA One Shots

Tremors: Shigaraki x Male!Reader

Warnings: PTSD Episode, Swearing, Blood Mention

A thud sounded the floor as your body fell, screams shattering the surrounding air. Everything felt so useless, pointless. The air was ripped from your lungs, begging for forgiveness. The nails on your fingers scratched desperately on the wooden floor boards, the finale had come. All that anger. All that pain. All that shame. It had finally come full view, a gruesome painting of the bearings of your soul. What had you done to deserve such mistreatment? Was it the wickedness of your lifelong path? Or simply an omen bound at birth? These were questions which died for answers. Did you even deserved such a luxury as those ever yearning answers? Maybe this had been the universes way of balancing the unevenness of this cursed world. If there's one thing you'd beg for an eternity it was the ever pursuing itch, an itch that couldn't be indulged, at least not to where it could be subdued.

At this moment you couldn't care less who heard, your screams felt empty to you. Who would come to these screams? Who would dare search for its master? You might've had a care if your chest wasn't being ripped by daggers at that very moment. The coldness of the air was struck with violent vibrations, or perhaps it was the nearing footsteps of someone familiar. Why were you even unleashing this terror within you? What was this anyway? Either way, it didn't matter why or how, it only mattered that it bore you soul open in a shameful way. Every scene from this act felt wrong, sinful, and yet you couldn't bear to make it stop. A warm hand made placement on one of your shoulders, oh what a mistake that could be.

"Hey, Player Two. Player Two you need to breathe."

This voice sounded so familiar, so serene, and yet it only made you go mad with agony. Did you truly deserve a forgiving touch? This simple act of love did more harm than good, all the while your body begged for this reprieve. If only you could muster the energy to reach for this hand, even something as subtle as breathing would suffice. Some things are easier in the mind than they are in action. The mindless chatter in your brain became muddled, your head spun with a harsh force. A sharp wet pain struck your fingertips, a copper-like smell stung your senses. A high volume sound pierced your ears, your body shook under this travesty. That same familiar warmth placed itself on both sides of your face, damp with guilty reminders.

"Shh...breathe, just keep breathing."

Your previous static mind mellowed to something more in control, perhaps your thoughts had gained its own conscious again. You hoped this was truth rather than wishful thinking, grasping at any hope you could. Not realizing till your eyes opened to the harsh light, burning with the lack of which, that you'd squeezed away any light that willed itself in. The residing chopped breathing had flowed to something more even, not quite entirely, but it was making the motions to get there. Finally restoring your sight, you were met with eyes of warm tones. Crimson. Something told you the color was a comfort, simply by how your body shifted from immediate contact.

"What the hell happened boss?"

The wetness previously felt at your fingertips had indeed been your own blood, much more than you anticipated. The surrounding atmosphere settled in as the bar you knew best as home. Those people surrounding you were your family, a certain scarred man stood in horror at the sight. You were certain he was the one who previously spoke on that same terror. What had possibly happened to make them look so frightened? You recall bits and pieces of the previously passed moments, but nothing stuck permanently in your mind. Only a vague swirl of shades, smells, and tactile sensations.

"Is he going to be alright? I mean what the fuck Tomura you're supposed to be keeping an eye on him."

What happened

"I can only do so much Dabi. I'm the fucking boss after all, why don't you put in some effort since you're so fucking skilled at what I should be doing."