#picking your scabs open to bleed like a human like something real and alive

[delimeful]

taking the fall (3)

warnings: imprisonment, interrogation, injury, mild blood, panic and sensory overload, dehumanizing language, ambiguous motives, morally neutral/antagonistic janus, snakes mention

-

His guest wasn’t eating.

Janus cast an irritated glance over to the terrarium, where the only “life” that could be seen was a clump of thick foliage in one corner.

He’d left the old fake plants in there as a taunt, but as soon as the tiny creature had ascertained that there were no snakes in the grass, they’d immediately bundled every bit of shiny plastic greenery into a makeshift nest and hid within it. He supposed he should have expected it, from one as industrious as these tiny folk all seemed to be.

Regardless of his guest’s reticence, he’d been setting small dishes of food in there whenever he himself took his meals, giving them some time to adjust to the reality of their situation. It had been a couple of days, however, and every miniature entree looked entirely untouched.

His prisoner seemed to be on a hunger strike.

It added more evidence to his theory that he was being misled in regards to his guest’s identity. If they were actually a victim in all this, why bother keeping quiet and refusing to give the answers Janus needed? Why go so far as to not even eat, for people who allegedly wouldn’t care if he lived or died?

No, things made much more sense if this was a gambit on the tiny people’s part, one of them volunteering to stay and play sacrificial lamb, distracting him for as long as the others needed. Their terror, their injury, their tiny bitter laugh, it could all be part of a ploy for pity on his end. Get him too invested in a puzzling prisoner while the others escaped.

The thought made his stomach drop unpleasantly. His opponents were exceedingly small, and he was one of the few who knew they existed. If they got away, he’d never see them again.

He couldn’t afford that.

Pushing his chair back, he approached the terrarium, casting an assessing eye over the food set out in it. Some of it could sit out, and had been there overnight, the best time for his guest to eat without risking even seeing Janus. But no. Not a single crumb out of place to indicate that anything had been eaten.

“Still alive?” he asked dryly, rapping a knuckle on the glass once.

There was a long pause, and then one of the leafy stems sticking out from the nest twitched twice. This daily question and response was the only communication he’d had with his guest since that first afternoon, and even this small, silent answer had originally been prompted by a threat of Janus reaching in there and checking himself.

“I notice that you’ve been refusing any sustenance,” he continued idly, and got nothing for his efforts. “Planning to die before you can give up any secrets?”

No response. Janus sighed as though put upon, and slid the terrarium lid halfway off. There were still no meaningful movements from the nest, though it seemed to be subtly trembling. It was impressive that despite the dark clothing that his guest wore, he still couldn’t make out exactly where they were even this close.

With narrowed eyes, he reached in and grabbed a few of the plastic leaves, tugging to pull the construction apart bit by bit.

He only caught the faintest flicker of movement before there was a sudden sharp pain in his index finger, and he yanked his hand back on reflex.

A weight came up with it, putting even more pressure on his wound, and it dropped as soon as his hand was just above the terrarium lid.

Seeing the dark shape attempting to scramble away, his other hand smacked down on top of it automatically, pressing it into the mesh with a small, muffled cry.

He glanced at his hand. There was a plastic thorn hooked in his thumb, the broad end chewed off and the point of it sharpened. His guest had attacked and used him as a makeshift lift in their escape attempt.

“Oh,” he intoned, voice dark. “Seems like you have plenty of energy after all, hm?”

---

Virgil took in short, gasping breaths, barely able to hear whatever threatening thing the human was muttering as pain radiated through his leg.

It let up just slightly as the pressure of the hand on top of him eased, his face no longer pressed into the cold wire netting of the cage’s top. Before he could try and string two thoughts together, the fingers were curling around him like a hawk’s talons, lifting him up and sending another jolt of mind-numbing pain through him. He might have whimpered.

So much for that escape attempt. He’d known it was a long shot, but his options had been limited after realizing that he literally couldn’t stand on the injured leg any more. They’d dwindled further with every day he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to any food or water. Living outside, he’d survived on very little before, but it was a gamble every time.

He was flipped to face the light, the human’s head in silhouette above him. He couldn't make out it’s words. Everything felt overwhelming, made incomprehensible by the pain and the dark spots in his vision. His face felt hot. Was he bleeding?

Things went blissfully quiet above him, and then he was being moved. He wondered if the human was about to kill him, and the thought sent a much weaker pulse of panic down his spine than usual. He hoped it killed borrowers before feeding them to it’s snakes.

Something soft and dark dropped over him, and he thrashed for a moment before his leg reminded him how awful an idea that was. So he laid still instead, letting his terror shake through him in waves, until he wasn’t completely lost to it anymore.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, feeling at what was draped over him. Cloth, soft in texture and tightly-knit enough that not much light got through. Below him… a warm, living surface.

“Awake?” the human said, voice both closer and quieter than he’d ever heard it.

Another shudder worked through him, and he reached up to press his hands over his face, wishing none of this was real. His eye pigment had run, drying in tracks down his cheeks.

He wouldn’t be able to reapply it. The locket he stored it in was left behind with the rest of his stuff, tucked away into his oversized pack and left at the opening into the human’s home. It had probably already been torn through and picked apart by Mari and the other insiders.

The thought stung, somehow more personal than the nightmare of the situation he was already in.

“I believe I see now why you haven’t eaten,” the human continued with a surprising lack of snark. It must have seen his leg. He felt a little sick just thinking about it.

What had felt like a low-grade fracture through the adrenaline had ended up growing worse and worse without treatment, until the injury was a solid lump of swollen flesh and ugly bruising that twanged with agony at even the slightest shifts. He wondered if the human was going to use it against him. It would make torture exceedingly easy on its part.

“Continue with the silent treatment, and you won’t get any actual treatment,” it said, now sounding exasperated.

After another stretch of silence, the hand beneath him moved and tilted, sliding him off onto a flat surface. Suddenly desperate to know what was going on, Virgil yanked at the cloth, dragging handfuls of it down until he reached an edge and could pull it clear of his eyes.

The light in this room was dimmer, but it still took him a moment to adjust. He wasn’t in a snake tank, but on top of a low table in what looked like a sitting room, if he remembered the human terms right. The human was seated on the couch nearby, looking down at him.

“There you are.”

---

The tiny person shot him a furious glare, rendered mostly ineffective by the dark tear streaks that were still smudged along their face.

Janus wished his earlier reflexes had been a little gentler. He’d had a quite embarrassing moment of panic where he’d thought the grotesque worsening of their leg injury had been caused by his grasp, rather than simple neglect and lack of treatment.

Despite his patience, they didn’t reply, continuing to just stare at him. He stood, ignoring the way it instantly made them begin trembling again.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Feel free to move around and make your injury worse,” he instructed dryly, before turning and going to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

His thumb was still sensitive, the injury messily scabbed over with dried blood. He’d pried the thorn out with his teeth easily enough, but with his other hand occupied by a prone tiny person and their hyperventilation fit, he couldn’t properly treat it.

Upon his return, he saw his guest had abandoned his handkerchief and was halfway to the edge of the table. He rolled his eyes, and set the kit down before grabbing them by the shoulders and sliding them back over to the handkerchief.

“I was being sarcastic, you know,” he told them, and opened the kit to start cleaning his undersized injury. “I’ll be very unhappy if my only source of information dies a completely avoidable death for no reason.”

“Yeah, because I sure wouldn’t want to make you unhappy,” his guest bit out, and then looked as though they were deeply and immediately regretting opening their mouth. Janus didn’t know why; he personally took much better to sass than being stabbed.

“So you do know how sarcasm works. Color me impressed.”

The tiny person actually hissed at him, like the world’s most emo kitten.

“Yes, yes, I feel very threatened,” Janus retaliated by prodding them with the edge of an open tube of arnica gel. “Here. For the bruising.”

After another long glare, his guest spoke. “What do you want for it?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t it be argued that I owe it to you, for allowing the injury to fester while you’re in my care?”

“Your care--!” his guest cut themself off, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Terrible hosting etiquette aside, you weren’t the one who gave me the injury. Not your concern. So, what do you want?”

Janus wondered absently how tiny people qualified their hosts’ manners. He had certainly already failed by human standards, immediately imprisoning his guest and all, so perhaps it didn’t really matter either way. He wasn’t above taking advantage of a tiny person’s bartering honor system. “Answer three questions.”

“I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer,” his guest countered quickly, apparently having expected this.

“You get five passes,” Janus allowed. Seeing what they refused to answer would be informative in itself.

“... Fine.” With another glance at their injury, they grabbed the tube sharply enough that they almost overbalanced. “Ask.”

“Where are the others living?” Janus asked, just to set the stakes high.

“Pass,” his guest answered, not even looking up from their task. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Why are you defending them?” he tried.

“I’m not defending them,” they shot back, vitriol thick in their voice. “I just don’t want you to get what you want. That’s one question.”

“Ouch. I’m hurt, really.” Janus tapped his nails along the table idly. “What’s your name and pronouns?”

This did prompt them to look up, face pinching up in confusion. After a moment, they returned to their baseline expression of scowl and retorted, “That’s two questions.”

“It’s one sentence, it counts as one question,” Janus lied smugly. They still looked close to passing, so he gave them a nudge. “Unless you want me to make something up? I’m very creative, I assure you.”

“I use he,” he finally grit out, “and you can call me V.”

“For Vendetta?” Janus mused, and received an utterly baffled look for his wit. “I suppose your movie repertoire isn’t that expansive.”

“Two questions,” V said flatly. “One left.”

“Yes, I can count.” Janus glanced at V’s gel-covered leg. “You have to rub that in for it to work.”

V’s expression flickered to one of despair, but he bit his lip and started to slowly massage the gel in. Janus wondered at how easily he’d believed him.

“What do you call yourselves?”

“Pass.”

“Where did you live?”

“Pass.”

“How do I bait the others out?”

“Pass.”

“Why do you hate me more than the ones who allegedly put you here?”

V’s hand slipped, and he winced and paused for a moment. “... Pass.”

There was certainly a grudge there. Too bad Janus had no idea what it could be about. Oh well.

He set a hand on the table, leaning over V. “When do the others plan to leave? As specific as you can get, please.”

“Pa--,” V cut himself off, and Janus could see the moment he realized he had used up all his get-out-of-questioning-free cards. He patiently waited out the tiny person’s fit of frustration.

“... I don’t know.” Janus’s smug grin dropped, but V continued after a speculative pause. “I don’t think they’ll leave before the season's turning. The spring thaw has been slow this year, and they’re-- not suited for it.”

Janus felt some of the tension drop from his shoulders. The start of summer. He had time, and the advantage of a weather forecast app. That was good news, even if he’d had to wrangle it out of his guest. He had time.

“How interesting,” he said lightly, and capped the gel to put it back in the box. V’s hands were clutching the edge of his coat tightly, as though guilty or angry. Or perhaps just stressed. “Let’s get some food in actual range of you, then, shall we?”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts janus #g/t #taking the fall #ttf #my writing #writing #borrowers #mind the warnings

[gurenscumrag]

As The World Falls Down

Word Count: 3,396

Content Warning: Child Abuse, descriptions of anxiety.

Read chapter 1 here.

The buzzing of the battlefield quieted down into nothing more than a simple humming, Shigaraki’s vision going a beautiful sparkling white until something slowly came into view. A young boy, with sky-blue locks, scabbed over skin, and red eyes sat silently on a small chair. The room around him was impeccably clean, almost entirely sterile which made the young boy shift uncomfortably. He was lost in thought, staring at the lines on the floor as though they were going to change before his eyes. Shigaraki never noticed the older gentleman stepping into the room, not until his unfamiliar voice broke the stillness and scared the boy momentarily,

“These are your mother’s hands...”

The dismembered and blue-tinged pair of hands were set down in front of a small Shigaraki. His maroon eyes gazing over them with curiosity and disgust. How could these be his mother’s hands? The hands that had once caressed and held him, the hands that were always a healthy flesh tone, and the hands that kept him safe were now crackled, leathery, and grey. How? How could this be hers?

“…your grandmother’s…

…your grandfather’s…

…and your father’s…”

Shigaraki stared at the family set, everyone was here… Mother, father, grandmother, grandfather… everyone. Everyone Shigaraki ever cared about laid out in front of him, except for one person.

Hana.

Where was Hana? Was she still alive? Is it possible she escaped unscathed? Had he kept his promise to protect her? If she was safe… Where was she? Had he not kept his promise? Did she not survive?! Where was Hana?!

“The human heart is an incredible thing,” the rough voice grumbled,  almost enough to dull and distract from the screaming in Shigaraki’s head.

The anxiety was starting to stir more and more inside of Shigaraki, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his throat constricting, trying to force any emotion or words he wanted to scream down. Bile rising into his throat, making his cheeks and eyes water. His family was dead. They had been dead for a while. Almost a month now, but why? Why were they dead? Who killed them? Who would do such a fucked up thing to such a small child?

“Left alone, it will heal itself of rage, grief, and all those negative emotions. But I always want you to keep them close to you… so that those feelings never fade.”

Never fade?! How could someone expect him to deal with all of these feelings? The pain he felt in his heart infected each part of his being. Each nerve, each muscle, each cell, every inch of his skin was bursting with anxiety and hatred. How could one little child carry such a heavy burden? How could anyone force Shigaraki to feel this tumultuous pain every day? Didn’t they know every waking moment felt like he was suffocating? Didn’t they know every day he woke up and vomited because he was so disgusted with himself for surviving? Didn’t they know how he stayed up for nights on end, crying because it should have been him who died? Didn’t they know how many times Shigaraki held his fingers to his throat, scared to press all five down despite wanting to die? Didn’t they know he cried for them? Didn’t they know how lonely he was? Didn’t they know how much he was suffering?

The voice and the image gradually began to fade away. The twenty-year-old Shigaraki blinked away the image of his young self sobbing and grasping his mother’s hands, but his sight never returned back to Rikiya, instead another memory took its place. This time, the image of a small black-haired child with pale skin came into view. The present Shigaraki squinted against the image, uncertain of who it was he was looking at…

Could… Could it really be…??

Hana!

Her cherubic features were always such a delight for Shigaraki to look at, it stirred up feelings of possessiveness and protection for his sister. Hana stood before Shigaraki, her pigtails bouncing slightly as she tilted her head and watched her brother who was silently sobbing, “You got in trouble again, right? Sheesh… You shoulda just kept quiet, Ten.”

Hana leaned in and Shigaraki felt a gentle pressure on his hand when she grasped at it, “You should do like I do. I’m telling Daddy that I wanna be a bride someday! It’ll make him real happy, especially if I marry someone like Daddy or you, Ten!”

Shigaraki smiled widely at the sweet words of his sister. Hana marrying a cry baby like him? He couldn’t do anything to keep her safe and happy, how could a husband like him do the same? Shigaraki sighed, despite his need and want to protect the child in front of him, she was his older sister and always was the one to take care of him.

The realization tasted sour in his mouth, but it was his sad reality. Whenever Shigaraki would run off to cry, she’d always come and find him. Always taunting and teasing the younger boy, but always grabbing his hand to pull Shigaraki along with her. It was Hana who would calm him and wipe the tears that stained his reddened cheeks. It was only Hana who could calm him down with just a few innocent, childlike words, and a toothy grin.

The tightening grip on the present Shigaraki’s wounded hand brought the man back to his current reality. The pulsating pain was enough to force out a scream, burning Shigaraki’s throat as it tore apart his vocal cords. Clawing its way out, but he could barely hear his screaming.

His thoughts, his head. Everything, it was all spinning. It was all spinning, round and round and round and round and round and round and round! These fucking memories! These stupid, memories! Why?! Why?! Why?! Why are these fucking memories suddenly coming back now?!

Rikiya sniggered, “All I see is just a hollow man… You’re just a man who indulges in destruction, right?! And in that case, you will never measure up to me!”

The incomprehensible frustration that sank deep deep down into Shigaraki’s heart. And the missing memories, slotting right into place! Feelings go hand in hand with experience! That’s right! There was more to Shigaraki than even he himself knew, there was something deep inside of him just waiting to explode, to be free and take charge. Something that Shigaraki desperately wanted to let out after all these years.

The blue-white haired man pressed his three remaining fingers against Rikiya’s thumb, the skin instantly starting to crumble beneath Shigaraki’s quirk. Flesh turning into nothing more than grey colored pieces of paper, floating off around the point the two villains were joined. Rikiya seemed to notice fairly quickly, the loss of feeling happening almost instantly, he knew he couldn’t let Shigaraki continue with his decay or it would be much worse. The older man pulled his arm slightly back before flinging Shigaraki’s body across the battlefield as though he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Rikiya was sure that Shigaraki’s quirk couldn’t have activated with only three fingers. All the data, all the experience beforehand showed he could only activate it with all five fingers? What had changed? Why now? What happened in the few seconds that Shigaraki looked lost?

A faint sound of skin scratching, labored breathing, and wheezing laughter forced Rikiya’s focus towards it. The sight before him was stunning. Shigaraki sat scratching at his bleeding and ripped skin, his eyes almost bulging from his eye sockets. His maroon eyes dark and bloodshot, yet still looked hungry for more power.

“MY HEADS SPLITTING.” The loud rasp rang from the scream abused throat, blood dripping down his chin, a sick smile etched into his wrinkled skin.

God itself would shiver at the very sight of Shigaraki right now. It was violent. It was sick. It was tortured. It was demented. It was repulsive.

While Rikiya stared at the revolting image before him, all Shigaraki could see was a beautiful and kind woman.

His mother.

An angel.

A goddess.

Her beautiful voice soothing the rage laced heart that ached inside a battle-worn Shigaraki, his mother rubbing the cheek of the young boy, “You’ve rubbed your eyes all ragged. Let’s get you some drops. It’ll only get itchier if you keep scratching.”

Shigaraki enjoyed the blissful image of his mother, her soothing words and movements could have made the man sigh in utter bliss had he been alone. Rikiya on the other hand was studying the worn-down man, trying to figure out what exactly had awoken inside of Shigaraki. He knew under the right circumstances that meta abilities could evolve, the right amount of stress was essential for pushing the abilities to new heights, but had that happen so suddenly with Shigaraki? Could meta abilities evolve that quickly? And could the user instinctually know how to use the evolved quirk right away? Was this man finally in the process of awakening? Had Rikiya unknowingly helped Shigaraki and aided in his own demise? There were so many questions, such little time, but such intriguing discoveries.

Shigaraki’s raw physicality, his raw movements, and almost immature demeanor clued Rikiya in about something. Shigaraki had trained his body hard. Despite his slender frame, the man was hardened with lean muscles, allowing for quick and targeted movements. He wasn’t bulky like All Might, Shigaraki’s quirk needed stealth and agility to pull off successfully, but his technique, was something otherworldly. Something only picked up during life or death training.

This kid… He was….

Incredible.

“I… I have also honed my stress ability, so I understand,” Rikiya started, his eyes trying to focus on Shigaraki, “I was wrong to judge you as beneath me. The fact that you haven’t vanished after taking so much damage tells me that you’re no double! Far from it in fact. You are simply incredible, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki looked like a real-life zombie, his gaze was far away, his body moved slowly and only in one simple direction. He was predictable and open for attack. Somehow, Shigaraki’s movements fastened as he grew closer to Rikiya. Long limbs moving like a sleek cat to strike at its prey. Muscular limbs being stretched and exerted to their max all for the goal of beating Rikiya.

Shigaraki pulled his arm back, gripping the limb with his free hand to keep it steady, he shot towards Rikiya faster than the older man expected, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Rikiya’s shirt tore apart violently, buttons flying in every direction as the man’s body began to harden. He was being engulfed more and more as the stress he had stored up over the years began to leak out, he was going to give Shigaraki the respect he deserved, at an 80% stress output.

“No more games, Shigaraki! It’s time for you to die!”

Rikiya’s face looked just as grotesque as Shigaraki’s, the skin-like suit was bright red and almost splitting from the sheer amount of power it held. The suit of the power leaking out to surround his face, dripping and smearing like blood. Rikiya grinned childishly beneath it. It was his turn to feel giddy, to feel youthful. Such an incredible fight with an incredible opponent warranted for it.

Shigaraki dashed forward, as did Rikiya’s, channeling all of his power into his arm and hand in a similar manner to Midoriya’s One For All. The sheer wind force coming off of Rikiya’s arms hit Shigaraki like a freight train. Shigaraki’s breath was knocked from his lungs, his body flung through the air, and he was slammed into large pieces of flying debris. Shigaraki felt like he was in a battering ring, his body scraped and bleeding, he knew a few ribs had broken, and at least one lung was punctured, but he didn’t care. How could he care when he saw none of it, the trace-like state Shigaraki was still in was enough to lick away any pain that he felt.

Shigaraki could only see his grandfather, a kind-looking man, his voice softer than most men, but it was comforting to a young Shigaraki, “Here, Tenko! It’s your favorite— Ohagi! Eating yummy things helps make the sadness go away. Why not take a few bites, son?”

Why had Shigaraki been sad when he had his grandparents? Especially his beautiful grandmother. She always took such good care of him, her voice almost as angelic as his mother’s, but not quite there, “Don’t cry, Tenko, or you’ll make grandma cry too.”

His grandmother and grandfather were always so kind to him, so why was he always so sad? Why did every part of him hurt? Why did he always feel alone? Why did they all have to die?

He had the answers, he knew why he was hurting and just what he needed. Back then, what Shigaraki needed to hear the most from them wasn’t that he’d be okay or that the sadness would go away, no.

What he needed them to tell him was….

Rikiya stood, watching the battered and bruised villain struggle to get on his feet. His breathing hard and loud as he struggled to suck in air with a punctured lung. Rikiya watched, someone from the sidelines shouted into the earpiece  Rikiya wore, “Re-Destro!! Be on your guard! He’s headed right for you!! They had a real monster lying in wait!! Re-Destro! They didn’t play all of their cards!!”

What?!

Didn’t play ALL their cards?!

What else could these sick bastards be keeping up their sleeve?!

“SHIT!” Rikiya yelled, the deep rumbling he had been hearing wasn’t the consequence of his own power destroying the buildings and ground around them, no, it was something else. Something or someone was coming straight at them!

The booming sound of heavy footsteps descended upon the battlefield, Rikiya flinched at the deafening noise. A loud, human-like scream broke above the clouds, a ginormous rock-like body came crashing through several buildings causing them to come tumbling down with a loud groan. This gigantic monster came barreling through the buildings all for the sake of its master, Tomura Shigaraki.

Rikiya watched it, wide-eyed and struck with fear. Now it was Shigaraki’s turn to watch the other villain, his body somewhat hunched over, tired and exhausted from the fight and his eyes retained a certain sadness.

Rikiya gawked at Shigaraki in terror. Rikiya had been hounding his ability since he was a child, trying to create a move that was so destructive it was untouchable, yet somehow, Shigaraki had managed to touch Rikiya enough to activate his quirk. Small pieces of Rikiya’s skin was flaking away, floating off into the air, leaving the beginning of an open wound. Shigaraki was no normal villain, in the instant Rikiya aimed to destroy, Shigaraki had moved into it rather than defend like human nature would dictate, it would seem Shigaraki only moved to destroy.

“Re-Destro! Be on your guard, dammit!”

The saddened, but exhausted man was once more lost in the tidal wave of memories that were unlocking. It stirred up new feelings, new desires, new thinking. What was his purpose in life? .What was Shigaraki seeking to build, Why did it feel like only yesterday was his memories reemerging? What was happening to him?

Shigaraki stared blankly at his hand that was damaged, yet somehow looked perfectly fine and normal, “What do I seek to build…? No, you’re totally right. All I can do is destroy!” A sick smile graced bloodied and crackled lips, his white hair wind-whipped, his body standing taller and prouder, his exhaustion replaced with adrenaline.

Rikiya glared sharply, disgust evident in his features, his power began to consume him, covering him in their protection, “Then be gone! A world without creation has no future!” Rikiya grew bigger and bigger, his quirk gracing him with enough power to be 15 feet tall, his chest gigantic, and his hands held fistfuls of his pure raw power.

Shigaraki chuckled, loving the fact he had pushed this seemingly coolheaded villain to his brink, “No future, huh? Nah, I don’t want that either.”

What was it that Shigaraki wanted? What were his true intentions? Another memory hit Shigaraki like a strong wave, a quiet but clean home came into his view and he heard a familiar voice, “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m so sorry my boy bothered you. I’ll be sure to give him a talking-to!”

His mom?! Why was she apologizing? Why wasn’t she doting on him? What was going on?!

Shigaraki couldn’t remember why he was in trouble, he only remembered the way his father grabbed the back of his shirt. Roughly pulling the young boy through the house, his mother’s face warped in confusion and fear as she tried to catch a crying Shigaraki. His father’s strong voice booming above the sobbing screams, “Playing hero again?! Causing trouble?!”

“Stop! Kotaro! Don’t… Don’t be so hard on him! He’s just a kid, please!”

“If you don’t like it, then learn your lesson this time.” His father snarled.

“FATHER! NOOOO!” Shigaraki screamed, thrashing in his father’s grip while desperately trying to grab for his mother, “STOP IT!”

“KOTARO, PLEASE!” Tears flowed down his mother’s reddened cheeks, she was so beautiful when she cried, but it broke the young boy to see her crumble.

Now he could remember why his father was so angry with him.

Shigaraki’s father always had one rule in their house. Only one, but it was absolute. No talk about heroes.

Shigaraki now sat curled up, his knees tucked close to his chest, fresh and old tears staining his cheeks, his nails scratching his delicate skin over and over. His black hair was messy and stuck to his forehead from sweat. The gentle breeze of the outside world licked and caresses the wet points on his face, as though the world was trying to soothe this hurting boy. Kotaro watched the sobbing child from behind the glass door, a sneer etched into his face from his disgust

“You’d better not go and apologize to him for me.”

“But what about dinner? And his allergies are only getting worse!” His mother retorted back

“Rules are rules.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been too strict lately?” Shigaraki’s grandmother chimed in, her eyes watching his son-in-law curiously.

“Five years old and still no quirk. If I can’t make Tenko understand, it’ll only lead to more misery for him. Wanting to be a hero will cause him nothing but trouble. As my in-laws, I need you to understand too.”

But Shigaraki’s mother was too kind, too sweet, and too naive to allow her child to suffer in such a way. She sat behind her sweet baby boy, ointment in her hands to rub onto his worn-out skin, “Come on. No more scratching okay?”

“But I’m so itchy,” Shigaraki whimpered, the back of his hands rubbing the raw skin on his eyes

“It’s too bad we don’t know what’s causing these allergies…”

“It’s the house. I get itchy here.”

“Tenko,” She smiled, bandages and ointment applied, turning the small child towards her welcoming body, “Do you still want to be a hero?”

“Yup!” He smiled sweetly and innocently, “Because, like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun! And then Mikkun said, ‘you should be All Might, Ten’ I was nice and played with them, even though, they don’t have any friends.” Shigaraki threw himself at his mother, wrapping his little arms around her waist and burying his face against her chest, comforting and calming him with her scent and soft body.

“Mommy, why does father say no all the time?! Does… Does he hate me?! Will he like me if I get my quirk?”

The older woman sighed, pressing a hand to the back of his head, keeping him pressed against her bosom, “Your father doesn’t hate you… He just… He knows… He knows how hard it is for heroes.”

How I wish those were the words I wanted to hear mother… I really wish I did, but little kids are sneakier than you’d expect and simpler. When you’re little, grown-up’s words are absolute. And that’s why I needed to hear it from you all. Just one thing but the household my father built rejected me kindly.

Notes: Hi! If you want to keep better track of this series and it’s progression, here is the A03 link!

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki angst #mha #bnha #shigaraki emotional hurt #tenkoshimura #tenko shimura #tenko shigaraki #league of villains #LOV #Shigaraki fluff #Shigaraki #tomura #my hero academia #rikiya yotsubashi #re destro #hana shimura #kotaro shimura #nao shimura #nana shimura

[sinful-stories]

Bloody Carpets

This is my entry for @nicole-lynne ‘s 350 followers challenge. I had Derek Hale and the line “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.” I didn’t really describe the reader so I hope it can be read as either a guy or a girl. Enjoy.

Characters: Derek Hale, Chris Argent, Malia Tate, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Reader. (Lydia, Stiles and the rest of the pack are mentioned).

Derek leans back in his chair before setting his legs on the table in front of him. It had been quiet in Beacon Hills lately, minus a few new supernatural beings who moved in though they hadn’t caused any trouble to his knowledge. Scott hadn’t needed him yet for anything, so he’s gotten bored despite to increased numbers of hunters also living in BH with them. He put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes with a small sigh escaping his lips. Chris Argent had his hands full attempting to keep what Gerard had done before his death. Cora never returned, choosing to stay in South America where she wouldn’t be hunted or harmed at every turn. Isaac recently returned from France after training with the Argents there, becoming both a hunter and staying a werewolf in the mix. Scott and Stiles often worked with the sheriff’s office, though Stiles still worked for the FBI and was often gone on cases. Lydia began working at the school in order to keep an eye on the younger creatures, not because she didn’t trust them but rather she worried about them. Malia decided more recently to work with Deaton at the pet clinic without giving her reasons as to why. Jackson returned permanently to BH with Ethan so they could help Scott with the sudden influx of beings coming here. Cory, Hayden, Liam, and Mason were currently traveling outside of BH for a few reasons. They needed a break and to go to college but to also look for anyone who needed help. New creatures kept coming up and different breeds, though the one who bothered Derek the most had to be (Y/N). You showed up alone and seemingly running from a troubled past. You refused to open up about what happened or what led you to hide away in a town for the supernaturals when you seemed to be a human. With a snarky tongue and fierce attitude, you got under his skin in a way he didn’t like. Their arguments tended to end with one of them somehow injured. He liked you, and he wouldn’t deny that fact plus he couldn’t lie around any of the werecreatures throughout the town. Something about you drew him to you but he never had the best luck with romantic partners so he chose to ignore his growing affection for you.

His eyes open when he hears someone grab the door handle to his loft before it slide open. He quickly drops his legs from the table in order to greet who stands in the doorway before the scent of iron finally reaches him. (Y/N) stands there with blood dripping down multiple different wounds, you look like you could barely stand on your own with your skin looking several shades lighter than usual. Derek jumps up and runs over to you, barely managing to catch you when you attempted to step forward again like you wanted to meet him halfway somehow. He easily picks you up and rushes over to the table, easily clearing anything on it. You grip his sleeve as he lets go of you to pull out his phone, you didn’t know who he wants to call but you’re scared and he can smell it.

“No cops.” You manage to say finally, “Please.”

“I need to call someone. You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

You huff but drop the hold you have on his sleeve, attempting to cover one of your wounds to avoid any more blood dripping on his carpet. He dials a number you’re not quick enough to see and walks away from the table, speaking in a low tone with the other person. You couldn’t believe you’d been stupid enough to be caught by a hunter in this town, you thought they didn’t attack unless they had reason to. Then again, that protection came strictly by being within the McCall Pack which you weren’t in. A loner through and through. You’d hoped that being here in BH would slow the hunters that have been on your trail since you turned, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Derek ends his call with a small grumble before approaching you again, his eyes slide over the different injuries like he’s trying to figure out which one to treat first. He can’t see them very well though, most of them being hidden by the bloody fabric clinging to them.

“Do it,” You sigh, “I know you have to.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen on one of your exes before.”

He studies your features for a few heartbeats before he rips open your shirt, exposing the different injuries covering your abdomen and back. His fingers lightly grazing scars he didn’t even notice at first, concern instantly coming into his darkly colored eyes. Pain rolls off of you in waves, it’s a sour scent that causes Derek’s nose to scrunch up. He reaches out and places his hand against the largest wound, you immediately know what he’s trying to do. Pain absorption. A skill most werecreatures have. It works on animals and humans, but it rarely works on other beings. It didn’t work though. Derek no longer had the Alpha status, he couldn’t take the pain from any other creatures. Scott told him to keep the wounds covered until he got there with Isaac and Malia, he wanted Isaac there in case you needed to be held down while the others worked on your injuries. They still weren’t sure of what you were so they wanted to a Beta there, other than Derek of course. He walks away again and ignoring the way you attempt to grab his sleeve to keep him from leaving. Faintly the sounds of his sink reach you, but it hurts for you to even move your head around right now so you trust your senses. You know what you need to heal, but telling him might cause him to turn you over to the hunters. Werewolves have never been very friendly with your type. You can’t help but to feel a pang of something at that thought, the thought of Derek betraying you. Closing your eyes, you try to recall your life before this. But for the first time, you can’t. You can’t remember your parents, friends, or anything else about yourself.

“Hey, keep your eyes open.” Derek’s harsh tone snap you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“I understand, but you need to stay awake until Scott gets here.”

“Scott. As in Scott McCall. The true alpha who died twice before he was out of high school?”

“Is he that well known?”

“His whole pack is, even you.”

Derek snorts as he begins wiping the blood staining your skin with a warm, wet cloth. He hates that he can’t take away the pain rolling off of you in waves, he hates when he smells the stench grow stronger every time he wipes the wounds. You grip fistfuls of your jeans to keep yourself from lashing out at him, from drawing blood from him to heal the wounds. They weren’t sealing or scabbing over and you could feel how weak you’d become thanks to all the blood loss from dragging yourself to Derek’s loft. You did it because he’s in Scott’s pack, and you trusted him for some reason. No hunter could hurt you in Derek’s loft, hopefully.

 Scott and Malia were still waiting for Isaac at Deaton’s vet clinic. Scott took the time to pack up what he assumed they would need to help an injured person, although he wished Derek would bring you to the hospital so his mom could look at you. But he understands why. Most beings here don’t trust the humans since the hunters were everywhere. The hospitals, the sheriff’s station, the school… everywhere. Malia keeps saying that she doesn’t trust you because she doesn’t like how you smell, something about your scent caused most werecreatures to give you weird looks. But Scott never finds it off, he also doesn’t see why someone would hurt you. Isaac finally pulls up outside though instead of staying in his car, he gets out and rushes over to Scott with a file in his hands.

“Scott. I know why they got hurt.” Isaac skips any greetings, handing his alpha the folder.

“Why?” Scott askes even as he takes the file.

His eyebrows raise almost instantly as he reads the information printed there, he didn’t think vampires were real. No one he ever saved could tell him, they were rare to come across. Someone put a price on your head, a big one at that, and they wanted you dead rather than alive.

“We need to get to Derek. Now. This says they don’t care how it’s done or what rules they break. Whoever put this price tag out there won’t care about hurting Derek too. We should also call Chris, in case we need back up.”

Malia grabs the backpack Scott had packed and the trio hurry to Isaac’s car. Scott just hopes they can get there before something worse happens.

 Derek stands over you still, keeping an eye on how much you’re bleeding with an unreadable expression on his features the entire time. You couldn’t tell if he was mad from the blood soaking into the carpet or if he was concerned for your life. He moves to your other side, wiping away the sweat dripping from your forehead with a small frown. Scott didn’t normally take this long to get here, whether he had been busy or not. He’s trying not to pace around the loft, you weren’t moving a lot anymore and he hasn’t been able to get you to open your eyes since you closed them a few moments before. The sounds of multiple people slowly approaching his loft door causes him to look up from you finally, his eyes turning to an icy blue. His shoulders becoming tense as his nails turned into claws with a frown tugging on his lips. Though the tension leaves him when he sees Chris pull the door open with Isaac, Scott, and Malia.

“What took you guys so long?” Derek grunted.

“Chris needed to stop by the hospital to get what we need for your friend.” Isaac pulls the door shut, glancing at the amount of blood.

“The hell does that mean?”

“They’re a vampire, Derek.”

Derek looks down at your barely moving form, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. From the stories he remembered being told by Peter, they were supposed to be the opposite of werewolves. They chose to have covens though they liked being loners. They killed without care about who they hurt or turned in the process. They took and took and took yet rarely gave to others. The hunters, however, had taken control of the ‘out of control’ vampire population. It made them harder to find which made the hunters angry, they didn’t like how easily they could blend in with humans. Their eyes didn’t glow in pictures, they didn’t have super strength or hearing. They couldn’t handle a lot of sunlight though they could handle some of it. Their eyes were sensitive to the light, very sensitive. But they could heal faster than most humans. Their hearts still beat enough to avoid concern from medical personal. They could eat normal food, but they needed blood daily to survive. Everyone assumed it had to be human blood yet something tugs in Derek’s mind. He doesn’t believe it’s true.

There hadn’t been any reports of late night attackers that ended with someone dead or heavily injured. He shakes his head and glares at his former Beta, not believing a word from him. Chris walks over to check your pulse before he swings his bag forward, setting it on the ground to pull out a blood bag from the hospital. He refuses to look at Derek while cutting it open and allowing some to drip onto your lips. Your eyes open instantly but they’re no longer (y/e/c), rather a bright red that somehow manages to glow even in the evening daylight outside. You snatch the bag from Chris, drinking it greedily and hungrily. Derek steps back from the table, his eyebrows raising almost immediately. From the way you drain the bag, he knows you must have been hungry yet you never made a move to drink from him. You had held yourself back the entire time and that went against everything he had ever been told about vampires. He watches as you swipe the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, licking the blood from your thumb. The others in the loft watching you in a mix of surprise, horror, and concern as the wounds covering you begin healing at a rapid rate they hadn’t seen before. You take a second bag of blood from Chris and rip it open with your teeth, finally exposing your sharpened canines in the process. It didn’t seem like you cared as blood slides down your throat and chest, dripping onto the blood stains from your blood there. Licking your lips once the second bag is finished, you look at the people around you in silence unsure of what to say.

“You’re a vampire.” Scott says, “Stiles is going to have a field day with this, he always swore you guys existed.”

“We do, sadly. Most of us weren’t turned with our consent though.” You shrug, wiping the blood from your mouth.

“Is that why you have a bounty of your head for killing your family?” Isaac speaks up, his tone unusually harsh.

“I didn’t kill them. I’m just the only one who wasn’t killed, so my grandfather is convinced I did. I’ve been on the run for years now.”

Scott studies you in silence, the debate he’s having mentally clear on his features. His arms crossing as he begins to pace. Chris and Malia both watch you with sympathy in her eyes, though neither attempt to get closer to where you sit on the table close to where Derek is still standing. Isaac, however, is glaring at you like he doesn’t believe a word coming out of you. Not like you care though. You’re used to people not trusting you. Derek studies everyone, scrubbing his hand through his hair with a small sigh like he can’t understand what’s going on. Then everyone starts talking. Isaac wants to send you back to your grandfather. Chris thinks you should go with him and keep hiding. Scott wants you to join his pack of misfits. Malia thinks you need to go to the police or Stiles. You argue against everything. You didn’t kill your family, and you weren’t planning on getting killed for something you couldn’t have done. Derek stays silent the entire time, trying to ignore all the yelling. He just watches the blood dripping down into the blood stains and it begins to annoy him adding to the annoyance that had been building from everyone talking.

“Goddamn it! I told you before, you’re bleeding all over my carpet!!” Derek roars.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek hale x y/n #derek hale x reader #some angst #nicolelynne350challenge #scott mccall #malia tate #chris argent #isaac lahey

[bangbangchanie]

Little Broken~ Bang Chan {Non Idol Au}

Summary: We're all a little broken, but we don't like people we love knowing.

Pairings: Chan X Reader

Warning: mentions of depression, anxiety, self harm, self hate, angst, but it's a very fluffy and a sweet ending. Please don't read if any of this could possibly trigger you.

Word count: 2.7k

An: Admin Whinnie here, this little scenario is something that's just kinda been sitting there, I wrote it during our hiatus where unknowing to majority of people in my life was actually a really, really hard time. I went threw two really bad lows this year, but the last one was absolutely horrible. I broke, littarly broke and I didn't know how to tell people, and I still don't. So I wrote this. I wrote a story about the lows of depression ruining your self love, I wrote about it taking over your mind and relapsing on one thing you were so fucking proud of. I wrote about new self harm scars next to the old and just feeling down right ashamed of yourself. Cause after all these years, all the struggles you are now back at square one. Day one. After years and years you just feel so empty cause the one thing your pride yourself on was that you did it all on your own and you were good, but when its taken from you, you just break a little big more. So please. Please don't press the continue reading if this story could trigger you...I needed to post this to get this out there.. to kinda start a new on this blog....we'll see you soon yeah? Admin Peachy and I will see you guys real soon...we love you and know you're not alone.~💕🐻

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Ex-

"Fuck." You whispered looking down, blood bubbling out from your thigh, eyes wide as you stand from the closed toilet seat. "No, no no." You whisper your hands dropping the slightly bloody tipped blade onto your bathroom counter. Your hands covering your mouth as you repeatedly shake your head over, and over again, that slight sting you felt while making the slightly bleeding nine lines now has turned into a radiating heat."What the actual fuck Y/n." You whisper to yourself while stepping back and looking at your reflection in the mirror. "Why'd you go and do that huh?" Your eyes build with tears as you shake your head, slamming your hands down onto the cold countertop and look at yourself. "Guess making it to five years clean isn't gonna happen now ...is it?" The conversation to yourself, questions, stayed unanswered as you stood up straight, took a deep breath and grabbed your basketball shorts from the ground and pulled them up. Unbothered as the fabric runs against the scabbing lines.

Your hand moves, seeing the now empty alcohol wipe wrapper on the floor in front of the toilet making you sigh as you picked it up and threw it away, somehow feeling smarter than your past self who'd only clean a blade of the aftermath. Grabbing the blade from the counter gently, you placed it in your pocket, hoping, praying to keep what you just did, while short of breath and a hazy mind, would stay between you and your reflection in the mirror. Opening the door you're greeted with light laughter from your roommate and her friends. Sighing, you quickly walked the other way into your bedroom and shut the door. Your back pressing against it as you finally let a sob-like laugh slip past your lips as you slid down your door.

"You dumb fuck." You laughed in the booth, your eyes shining bright as Jeongin slammed his head against his arms, making the whole table break out in laughter. Your hand was laced with Chans, who sat across from you with a large smile on his face. His thumb absentmindedly tracing shapes against the top of your hand as he watches his newest pledge get teased and tormented by the others.

"Noona help me." He whined as Jisung flicked his ear, making the boy launch up as quickly as the flick happened and glare at the older man. His brown eyes casting over to you, and a pout fell on to his lips, his eyes going wide to try and mimic those of a puppy. "Noona, please." He drew out with a small whimper at the end only to make the whole table erupt in laughter once again as Seungmin patted his back and smiled at him.

"Noona can't do anything bro." His words made the younger huff as his arms crossed over his chest.

"But she's Chan Hyung's girlfriend and she's like a frat mom." His words had Chan's hand squeezed yours tighter, his smile growing as his eyes looked away from the scene and too you. The others follow, making blush rise up your neck and wrap around your ears.

"Why are you all looking at me?" You huffed as the boy sitting next to you, Minho, playfully hit your thigh. Pain shoots across the muscle, and you fight a winced palm hitting the fresh cuts perfectly. But you keep a straight face.

"Cause you are the frats mom, even if you don't know it." Minho says his hand quickly rubbing your thigh, and lifting it away, the past movements leading to the burning you now feel. They've reopened, the scabs breaking off from Minho's playful slap to it, ignoring the pain was always your strong suit but you thought after all these years there would be no way you could deal with it. But here you are, Minho's ear now pressing between your pointer finger and thumb after he had so gracefully hit you then stole Jeongins lunch. He winces in pain as he leans towards the pull of your finger tips. "Ow ow ow Noona stooop!" He winked, making you roll your eyes as you let him go with a flick to the forehead.

"If you want to call me a frat mom you're gonna be a dead man with me punishing you for teasing and mistreating your brothers. Jisung don't laugh, you're lucky your too far away for me or you'd be getting the same fucking treatment as Minho is here. " You paused and removed your hands from Chans and crossed your arms as you looked at the seven boys, "I swear if I hear one of you is going too far with my baby I will not hesitate to dump ice cold water on you in the morning." You words had them shivering as Chan let out a soft chuckle as he looked at you, turning your head to him you glared making his mouth quickly shut as he looked at you with wide eyes. "And you, if I hear you not stopping l it you won't get it for a month. If I'm their goddamn mother you're their father so deal with it...now where is the check?"

You stripped yourself from your clothing, your eyes catching the dark read lines on your skin making you sigh. Your fingertips delicately run across and down them, the rough feeling of the scabs making you shake your head as you turn away and turn on the shower. Right as you were about to jump in your roommate crashed into the bathroom making your yelp as you grabbed the current  to cover yourself.

"Jihyo!" You scratched, you cheek warming up as she walked passed you to the toilet.

"I've seen you naked before, Y/n." She laughed as she looked at you and smiled as she pulled down her pants. "I just really need to piss." Her eyes scanned down to the ground, only to catch the angry red lines that weren't fully covered by the shower current. "You...you would let me know if you're bad again right?" Her question made you tense up as you turn and slowly get into the tub

"Of course, why wouldn't I, you're my best friend." Your words made her huff as the warm water slowly steamed up the room, her need to question you fighting her throat. But she remembered your words, 'don't question just..be there.'

"Okay Just wanted to double check, I worry sometimes." You nod as the water flattens down your hair as you sigh, not wanting to tell her, anyone of the night before, the blade catches your eye.

"I know you do, but I'm good. Never better actually." You say shaking the thought out of your head, why'd you bring it here.

"Okay good...I'm going to Minas tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. " She says with a flush, making you jump as the water heats up. "You and Chris better not have too much fun, I don't need to deal with little versions of the two of you just yet."

"Yah!" You say shooting the current party open so your head could peek out, your shampoo covers your hands making bubbles stick to it. "I'm the baby, and babies can't have babies so fuck off." Your words make her belly laugh as she leaves the room, your body loving back under water as you finish up showering.

Once you were done, and dried you texted Chan, a smile on your face when you opened your phone. A picture of his smiling face as you nuzzled into his neck met your eyes. But a ping of guilt strung you along, why didn't you call him? Why didn't you try? It's like you wanted to hurt, maybe you did.Shaking the thoughts away, you go into your messages and press on his smiling face.

Y/n: bubs want to come over?

Bubs: Jihyo gone for the night?

Y/n: yeah she is, and I want cuddles🥰

Bubs: omw babe, bringing some pizza see you in ten

Thirty minutes later, Chan was still not there,but you were done setting up the pullout couch in the living room, the t.v already on Hulu. Your heart pounding as air was hard to catch in your lungs as you sat crisscrossed with your phone in your lap,a text from Jihyo staring back at you.

Unnie💎: I saw them, and I know you don't like questions. Don't like being pressured, but I saw them and I'm worried so worried so I might have called Chris and told him. You can be mad at me as much as you want to Y/n, but your life and your safety is so important to me. You are so important to me. So be mad, yell at me, ignore me but I will not apologize for worrying about your well being. I love you.

As tears fell down your face, your apartment door swung open, the sound of it shutting, a plastic bag dropping and shoes hitting the wall made you gasp for air. The sound of his footsteps made your mind race as all of a sudden his hand was on your cheek, and others resting on your crossed legs as his forehead pushed to yours.

"Breath baby." He said, his voice was raspy, dry sounding as his fingers that rested on your cafe tightened around the flesh. Almost as if to see if you were still there, still alive, still human. "Listen to me okay, I'm here I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I swear to you, come on baby, that's it deep breath in." His voice brought air back into your lungs as your shaking hand reached up and while the tears ran away from your cheeks, the other wrapping around the wrist that connected to the hand slid down to your shoulder.

"I-I-" You stopped yourself as you moved your head, pressing it to the back of the couch as you rejected his touch. His eyes shimmered with tears, it was almost beautiful in a way, the way they shone against the artificial light of your living room and the way the honey-like colors spread across them as the sun peeked through the currents. It was beautiful, but the beauty of it held pain. So much pain.

"Take...take your pants off, let me see them." He whispered, making you shake your head, his eyes showing nothing but hurt as he looked at you. His hands resting on the couch, suddenly gripped it tighter than before, almost as if he wanted to rip it apart in range. "Please, Jihyo said they looked infected, irritated...just..please." he whispered, standing up and walking away, his leather jacket falling onto the rocking chair as you heard the shuffling of a plastic bag. His eyes watch as you take a deep breath in, your thumbs hooked under the waistband if your baggy sweatpants as your fingers gripped them. Pulling them down to mid thigh he saw what he never thought he saw in you again.

Cuts.

Self inflicted cuts.

And a piece of him broke, not in guilt or pity, just in pain. In pain that you felt so horrible, so horrible about the world , about yourself and your environment that you took it out on yourself. He felt the pain of you probably looking in the mirror and seeing nothing but a failure, failure at staying clean, staying true and failure of not speaking out on it. He knew you knew you when you were at your lowest in high school, and at your highest freshman year of college, and everything in between.

Bow you at one of your lowest points again, and he wasn't there to hold you. And it made him feel like shit. But this isn't about him, it's about you.

"Did you clean them at all?" He mumbled looking at them, you shrug as you stare at the wall ahead of you, your muscle flinching involentarly as his fingers touch the still sore wounds. "You went pretty deep, you're lucky you dont need stitches..I'm gonna put some neosporin on them and a little cotton lad for now just so that I know they're clean."

"I took a shower today." You numbly mumbled out, as he spread the cold cream against the wound making you roll your lip between your teeth.

"Yeah well I need some reassurances, okay?" He whispered, his eyes closing for a millisecond and then they snapped open. The cotton pad was pressed on as he wrapped it. "Just for an hour." He mumbled, making you nod as you pull your sweat pants back up, falling on the couch and turning away from the world. He let out a shaky breath as he sat down, then moved to kay behind you, one arm moving behind your head as the other wraps around your waist, his leg shoving between yours as his head nuzzled into your neck.

"Sorry." You whisper, eyes closed fighting the tears threatening to push through the closed lids. The one word, the one single word made the floodgates break for one of you though, Chan's lips pressed against the back of your neck as sobs fought passed them, his body jerking with each single one against yours. His hand gripped your shirt as they wrapped around your head and played with your hair. He was holding onto you as if to hold you together, but in reality he was holding onto you so he wouldn't fall apart.

"Don't you apologize..do-don't." He spoke after calming down, shuttering for air as you turned around in his arms. His forehead bending down to press against yours, as his nose nudged you could help but slightly smile.

"I just..I hate feeling so fucking broken." You whispered, making his eyes snap open as he stared at you, his bloodshot eyes were slightly cold as he did as his hand moved from your waist to cup your cheek.

"Y/n, we're all a little broken, some of us hide it, some of us wear it on our sleeves and some are in between. So don't ever feel bad for feeling that way, okay?" He whispered his thumb rubbing under your cheek as you nodded, he gave you a half broken smile as his lips suddenly pressed to yours. The feeling made your eyes snap shut, your fingers grip his black shirt he was wearing. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you." He whispered, making you nod as you pressed your head to his neck.

"I'm sorry for not coming to you." You whisper later that night, a movie playing as he now laid behind you his hand moving up and down on your thigh as his chin pressed against the youth shoulder. They made his hand stop moving as he reached out and paused the movie as rolled you onto your back as he hovered over you.

"I know you don't always want to come to me right away, I get that. I mean am I upset that you didn't yes, but I know you. I know you probably thought you failed or somethi-"

"I did fail, I did and I'm back at square fucking one and it sucks." You whisper your hands moving to cover your face as he sighs and puts his full weight on you, his face shoving itself into your beck as one hand moves to play in his now brown hair. The other is moving to slide your arm across your eyes.

"Then we start here, on day one. You did fail, you took a step back and that's okay. You'll get through this, you're so strong and I know you'll make it. Remember last time how you realized it's been a year since you last hurt yourself and you threw a movie marathon." His words made you huff a chuckle as you ran your fingertips and nails over your scalp.

"Yes, yes I do."

"We'll do that again, but with sweets and junk food. We'll half Jeongin and Chenle being complete idiots and you're disciplining Minho. We can even see if Bambam can come down from Japan and celebrate with us." His words made you smile as you removed your arm, and looked down at him with a large smile.

"I love you." You whispered, making him giggle as he pecked the lips and nuzzled back into your neck.

"I love you too."

#straykids #stay kids #stray kids woojin #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids seungmin #stray kids chan #stray kids minho #stray kids felix #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids jisung #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids hyung line #stray kids jeongin #stray kids chan angst #stray kids chan fluff #stray kids changbin #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #kpop x you #kpop x reader

[reivenesque]

Running in a Serpentine Fashion CH6

Chapter 6: Son

Then Daniel said something that gave Johnny pause. He said; “Can you imagine how different our lives would have turned out if I’d joined Cobra Kai from the beginning and you’d been trained by Mr. Miyagi instead of Kreese?”

It wasn’t a thought Johnny had even considered but now that it was out in the open like that, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He couldn’t imagine it at all.

A day and a half ago he was sitting wallowing in his office downing bottle after bottle of orange juice. Never had he regretted giving up drinking until that point in his life but he was adamant about making a life changing decision and actually sticking to it for the first time in his life. The last time that happened, he got married and had a kid and ended up not sticking around like the worthless loser he’d turned into.

Now he was sitting in the dimly lit hospital room at his son’s bedside, listening to the beeping and hissing sounds of the machines keeping him alive.

Robby was still unconscious after the surgery and according to the doctor, would stay that way for at least a few more days.

The blade had caused damage to his colon and small intestines and caused some pretty significant internal bleeding on top of the other injuries he’d sustained in the fight, but thankfully it missed major blood vessels, otherwise he would have bled out even with Aisha’s first aid and before Johnny could have gotten him to the hospital. It was the swift action by Aisha and Miguel and Hawk and Moon coming to get him that saved Robby’s life and Johnny didn’t he’d ever be able to find the words to express his appreciation. He figured he’d start with the truth about his and Robby’s relationship first and foremost, since the revelation had been rather sudden and he didn’t get a chance to properly explain to Miguel before he left with the doctor to go see Robby.

Robby looked almost serene despite being in a drug induced coma. Small favours, thought Johnny. The last thing he wanted was for Robby to be in pain, he’d seen him in pain enough during the tournament to last a lifetime and it was all because of him. He just hoped he get the chance to apologize to his son for everything. For what happened at the tournament. For abandoning him and his mom. For not being there when he needed him the most. For everything.

He didn’t expect to get Robby’s forgiveness; he just wanted the chance to be able to work towards becoming a person who even deserved to earn it.

He reached over to grasp Robby’s hand, bringing it up to rest under his chin and he continued gazing at him. His other stretched out to brush the wayward bangs away from his forehead and lingered for a moment to stroke the side of his face.

He remembered Robby as a kid and all of a sudden he was a grown man standing right before his very eyes. Johnny regretted the years he wasted staying away, hiding like a coward and not being there for his family the way he should have been. Him and Shannon didn’t marry for love – well, they were in love at that moment, drunk off their ass and just happened to be standing in front of a pop up church. A few months later she told him she was pregnant and he stuck around for a while; through the pregnancy and the birth and for a couple of years after that. But then…

Well, the past was the past and Johnny forced himself to shake free from the thoughts. It wouldn’t do him any good. It never did. Instead he forced himself to focus on the present moment. He forced himself to grasp tight onto Robby’s hand and remember that that was the present. That was real. Robby was real and he was right there and he was going to need Johnny now more than ever. And Johnny was going to need him too.

“I’m sorry, Robby,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on the back of Robby’s bruised knuckles; his other hand stroking the side of his cheek gently with the back of his fingers. “I love you and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, just… please give me another chance. I promise I’ll never let you down again.”

Robby didn’t answer. His eyes remained closed; the rise and fall of his chest was mechanical with every pump of the ventilator breathing for him. Half his face was black and blue and he had a long scabbed over gash on his forehead just below his hairline.

Johnny just waited. He didn’t let go of Robby’s hand even once. He’d never been the most religious of people but at that moment, he started praying.

--

Nothing happening outside the walls of Robby’s room meant anything to Johnny, only the seemingly endless visits from the nurses and the doctors and the detectives who stopped by to check if Robby was awake to give a statement. Apparently they’d managed to identify three of the five guys that attacked Robby and were currently in the process of tracking them down.

Johnny couldn’t give two rat’s asses about the process; he just wanted to know when they caught the bastards to did that to his son and enforce some Cobra Kai justice on them himself.

But then he remembered; Cobra Kai was the reason he was stuck in that predicament. Why he was always stuck in that predicament. His life ended when he lost to LaRusso in the tournament, but it wasn’t because of the actual tournament, it was everything that had happened as a direct result of the loss. His relationship with Kreese. His relationship with his stepdad had disintegrated further with his mom no longer able to play the peacemaker. The friendship he had with the rest of the Cobra Kai’s that had slowly burned out and fizzled away. That was one of the biggest regrets he had. That and ending up being to Robby what his own father had been to him: just another scumbag absentee dad.

“Johnny?” He looked up at the call and found LaRusso standing at the door. He didn’t know how long the man had been standing there. “Amanda asked me to see if you needed anything. You haven’t left his side in days.”

At first Johnny had to wrack his brain to remember who Amanda even was but when he did he just shook his head, though he was appreciative of the gesture and the thought. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

LaRusso spared him a look for a moment before he returned the nod and stepped back to leave.

“Daniel?” Johnny surprised himself by calling out to him before he walked away. “You… you wanna stay a while. I guess I could use the company.”

“Sure,” he said with a smile, walking in and taking a seat on the chair opposite of Johnny, on Robby’s left. “They didn’t manage to find his mom?” he asked when he sat down.

“Nah,” said Johnny simply, though his brain was thinking of a few choice words to actually say about the woman but decided against it. “According to the neighbours she apparently went on a cruise with some new boyfriend he picked up in a bar. I don’t know. I don’t even try to keep up with what she’s doing – or who.”

“Poor Robby,” said LaRusso with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Johnny reiterated because there was nothing else left to say. Robby was unfortunately doomed from the start; a useless mom and an even more useless dad. It was a credit to himself that he grew up to be a halfway decent human being. Johnny hated to admit it, but meeting LaRusso was perhaps the best thing to happened to Robby in a long time.

“It isn’t your fault you know... what happened to him. Despite your relationship, you never could have predicted this happening. As bad as Kreese and the Cobra Kais were, this is beyond even their standard of evil,” said Daniel.

Hearing those words coming from his mouth, considering their less than stellar history and Johnny’s own disillusionment regarding the teachings of his own sensei that he once worshipped absolutely, it meant more to him to hear than he expected.

“It doesn’t change the fact that it did happen, and that Robby almost died… and that the last memory he has of me is standing by as he was being brutalized by my own students.”

“Look, Johnny – I won’t pretend to condone the teachings of Cobra Kai and the philosophy of Kreese that you – to be completely frank – stupidly passed onto those naïve impressionable kids. I thought you’d learned something from your own history. But I’m not here to condemn you or even Cobra Kai, I’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime. But just… you just need to remember that the teaching is only as flawed as the person who teaches it and between you and Kreese… well, I’m not actually sure which one of you is more flawed.”

Johnny understood that the moment was supposed to be deep but he couldn’t help it, he laughed. Then Daniel laughed.

“Damn, LaRusso, that was honestly the worst pep talk I think I’ve heard in my life.”

Daniel didn’t seem at all offended by his words. “Yeah, Mr. Miyagi didn’t manage to pass on that specific skillset,” he said.

“But, I do appreciate it in a weird way.”

“Then I’ve done my job,” said LaRusso proudly. “You know, Mr. Miyagi would have liked Robby a lot.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.”

Then Daniel said something that gave Johnny pause. He said; “Can you imagine how different our lives would have turned out if I’d joined Cobra Kai from the beginning and you’d been trained by Mr. Miyagi instead of Kreese?”

It wasn’t a thought Johnny had even considered but now that it was out in the open like that, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He couldn’t imagine it at all.

--

It was nearly three days after Johnny rushed his son to the hospital before he showed the first signs of waking up.

It was just a small movement at first, so miniscule Johnny almost missed it when it happened.  

At first it was just the slight furrowing of his eyebrows as he struggled to surface from the drug induced coma. Johnny stuck close to him, whispering assurances to him that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t know if Robby even heard him or realized he was there.

Then he started stirring, fingers curling weakly and arms moving around heavily; his eyeballs darting around beneath his closed lids. The more aware he became of his surroundings the more anxious Johnny got. He was about a second away from calling Daniel to be there to reassure them both when Robby’s eyes finally opened.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, barely able to stay open as he gazed around weakly at his surroundings. He didn’t seem aware of Johnny’s presence or the feel of Johnny’s hand grasping onto his. It wasn’t until Johnny called his name softly did his eyes finally turn to focus on the sight of Johnny standing over him.

Everything seemed to happen at once right then. Robby became fully aware of the breathing tube in his throat and the pain that was assaulting his senses at the same time. He began to choke, gagging on the tube, unable to take oxygen into his lungs. His hand reached up weakly to pull the foreign object out but Johnny managed to grab onto his wrist, tugging his hand away.

“Robby, it’s okay. It’s okay, Robby,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to stroke his son’s hair back comfortingly.

Robby had tears trickling down the side of his face and the sight of his broke Johnny’s heart to pieces. He was quickly ushered out the door by the arrival of the nurses and he doctors as they converged on Robby, and he reluctantly let his hand slip out of his grasp before the curtain was pulled and Robby disappeared from his sight.

At some point Daniel joined him in waiting outside Robby’s room but Johnny didn’t notice when he walked up or whether he stayed. His mind was focused completely on Robby, as much as he could with his heart thundering against his ribcage without mercy.

He only noticed when the doctors finally walked out though what they actually said went completely over his head. His only focus was Robby and getting reassurance that he was okay, once he got that, his mind immediately stopped concentrating on the doctor and he rushed back inside the room to be with his son.

He thought Daniel stayed for a while, there was a strange inkling in the back of his mind that someone was around, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Robby long enough to make sure.

It was at least a few more hours of anxious waiting, not once letting go of Robby’s hand, before Johnny’s heart was given the release it so desired when Robby woke up a second time. But this time in little to no pain though the doctor insisted that he stay on the ventilator for at least about twelve hours for monitoring.

This time Robby’s eyes were quicker to focus on Johnny once they opened and they stayed trained on him almost as if Robby was reluctant to believe that his own father was actually there by his side.

“You really scared the shit out of me kid,” he said, putting forward a stronger façade than he really felt on the inside and forcing a small smile onto his face.

Robby looked between his face and the hand still grasping tight onto his and for a tense heavy moment, Johnny was terrified that Robby would pull his hand away in rejection of the touch. But he didn’t, and Johnny let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. When Robby actually curled his fingers around Johnny’s hand, effectively latching on to him just as desperately, Johnny had to stop himself from tearing up like a little bitch.  

“It’s okay, Robby. You’re okay,” he said, “I’m here and I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”

Robby didn’t respond, but his shoulders noticeable relaxed and he leaned slightly onto the hand Johnny had cupping his cheek and that was everything Johnny could have ever wished for. He questioned whether to bring up the subject of Robby’s mom but decided against. His son didn’t need the added stress in his condition. Instead, he patted Robby gently on the shoulder and without letting go of his hand, retook his seat by his side. Robby’s eyes followed his descent and Johnny kept his gaze, squeezing his hand once as reassurance that he was real.

He noticed Robby attempting to speak through the tube in his throat and quickly leaned over to prevent him from hurting himself. “Don’t try to speak. Just… Just try to relax, Robby. I know you’re hurting and I know you’re uncomfortable but just… it’s gonna be okay, son,” he said and he realized that it was the first time he could remember calling Robby son, perhaps even, it was the first time he thought he actually deserved to do so.

He didn’t know whether Robby noticed his uncertainty, part of him hoped that Robby was too hopped up on drugs to even realize he’d said anything, but the other part of him wanted Robby to know, wanted him to believe that it was true. He supposed he wasn’t going to get any answers any time soon but he was totally okay with that too, it’d give him more time to work up a response that was less that of a stuttering fool.

But Robby continued staring at him through half lidded eyes that keep drooping and Johnny tried not to show his insecurity so obviously. Eventually he could tell that Robby was slowly but surely losing his battle against sleep and urged him to stop fighting, reassuring him that he was going to still be there when he woke up. It was as if Robby was waiting for the reassurance because the moment Johnny said it, he finally let go of the weak grasp he had on consciousness and slipped away into the dark.

Johnny let out a deep exhale the moment Robby’s eyes slipped shut and his entire body finally relaxed.

Then he just waited.

Tbc.

#johnny lawrence #the karate kid #cobra kai #robby keene #daniel larusso #billy zabka #tanner buchanan #ralph macchio #whump #reiven fics #reiven cobra kai fics #fics: running in a serpentine fashion #intubated