#fmnkb

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [20] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4.2k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

a/n: as of 8/5/21 on tumblr this entire fic has been mass edited into second pov!! the rest of the chapters are not gna be posted on tumblr (i lazy) so go read them on ao3!!

part nineteen 

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you rested against your bed, watching as sunlight danced around your room. Headphones covered your ears, the volume of your music pumped all the way up as you drowned your thoughts in rhythms and beats. Your arms were stretched up into the air, eyes tracing the various scars that lingered on your skin. They weren't that pronounced, having faded a bit with time, but they were still noticeable. Your eyes moved from the tips of your fingers, down your exposed arms, before finally resting on a patch of bandage that was still settled dauntingly on your upper arm. 

You hadn't the courage to look at it for long. It always seemed to mock you, remind you of your time in the facility. How weak you had been. How weak you still were. You'd never bothered to take the bandage off, not finding the will to face what lay beneath it. You stared at it some more, then reached your opposite hand over to slowly peel it away. You sat up as you did so, teeth biting into your lower lip slightly as the bandage came off and revealed a neat row of marks etched into your skin.

One, two, three, four, you traced the heavy vertical marks. Five, six, seven, eight. With a deep sigh, you stared at the tally marks, vague memories of... of Doctor Shin carving the lines into your arm every time you misbehaved. Every time tried to use your useless quirk to escape—whether involuntarily, or not. How ironic that it was the same number as your position in the top ten. Or rather, your previous position. Your fingers tapped the second slash, then you turned away, resting your gaze on the empty crib in the corner of your room. 

You knew you had to grow more accustomed to facing your trauma head on. But it was little things like these, injuries and marks that held such a heavy burden, that made you feel like you were regressing. Progress was not linear, you knew that. But it still sucked to feel like you were backtracking after all that work you had put into grasping at some semblance of stability. 

You scoffed, eyeing the tally marks some more. They were just scars. They would disappear with time and care. 

But it didn't stop the sinking feeling that was pushing at your chest. 

Letting out a sigh, you tugged your headphones off, pressing the pause button in the process. It was then that you realized there were loud voices coming from your living room. Turning your gaze to your closed door, you stood up on shaky legs, still not used to the wrap that had replaced your cast a few days prior. You recognized one of the voices as your mother's. The other one, however, was an unknown woman's voice, from the sound of it. Though, you couldn't deny that there was some sense of familiarity in it. It tugged at your heart and you frowned, rubbing at your chest a bit as you limped slightly over to your door and pressed your ear to it to listen better.

"What you're doing is not right and you fucking know it! You're purposely withholding shit from her!"

"Who are you to come to my house and curse me out? You aren't welcome here, you'd better leave." 

"I have EVERY damn right to be here. You're in for a slap to the face if you think what you're doing will end well. I know you don't fucking like us but that gives you no rig—"

"I said leave Mitsuki. I will call the police. I won't tolerate your words much longer."

"Just try it, I dare you. You think you're helping her, but you're not—"

Your head buzzed with the words that were coming from beyond your door. You couldn't process anything, your head thump, thump, thumping away to a low beat the more you thought about it. You had a vague sense of what they were talking about, but you couldn't say for certain. You didn't want to believe it, but.... You swallowed and cracked open your door, slipping out of it to creep over to the living room. Peering around a corner, you were just able to catch a glimpse of ash-blonde hair beyond the threshold of the front door before your mother slammed it closed, ignoring the curses that eventually died off from behind it. 

You watched your mother huff and abruptly turn around, face red with what you assumed was anger. She took a few deep breaths, then turned to head to the kitchen, gaze lifting to catch sight of you huddled around the corner. 

"Oh!" Your mother paused in surprise, a hand raised up to her chest. "How are you doing, dear? Hungry?"

"Nah," you responded quietly, your gaze flickering to the closed door before pointedly connecting with your mother's. "Who was that?"

"No one you need to worry about." Your mother brushed off your question, turning to continue her track to the kitchen, likely to let some steam out through cooking. But you weren't done questioning her. 

"What were you talking about?" you pressed further, but your mother held up a hand, not bothering to turn back around to make eye contact. 

"We are not having this discussion. It doesn't concern you," your mother replied in a voice that exuded finality. "Now please, give me a moment to myself. I've got the nastiest headache." With that, your mother walked away, hands massaging her temples as though to stave off that headache she had mentioned.

You were left alone in the hallway, your eyes glancing once more towards the closed front door. It was quite obvious that your mother and that other woman had been talking about you. You'd had a feeling, from the beginning, that your parents were restricting information from you. Considering their feelings towards heroes and your feelings towards them, you would not be surprised if they had purposely chosen to not tell you things in order to keep you in the dark. But what they could be hiding is what puzzled you. And you knew it would be difficult to get them to tell you in the first place. They were rather stubborn. 

This was fine. It just meant you had to work harder to recover and hopefully gain back your memories.

With a deep sigh, you turned on your heel, slinking back into your room and closing the door with a click.

---

"All right, y’said you wanted to work on your quirk again today, right?" 

"Yep," you replied, wiping off some of the sweat on your forehead from the sparring session you'd just had with Fukui. Without your cast, you were significantly quicker than before. You took it as a good thing—but you still got your ass handed to you, not that it was surprising. He stood before you, arms crossed as he waited for you to catch your breath. "Parents aren't in, so we can go all out." 

"Anything in particular you wanted to do?" Fukui asked, handing you a water bottle after you had tossed your towel off to the side. You cracked it open and took a few sips as you thought about it. 

"I was thinking," you began slowly, fiddling with the bottle cap, "that we could probably work on my illusions?" When all he did was raise an eyebrow in question, you elaborated. "Like, I'll cast an illusion around us and work on its realism. It's been hard for me to keep it up for long periods of time while also making sure there are no obvious holes. Y'know?" You took another sip of water before closing the bottle. "And I haven't tried it on other people as well, so I'm not sure what my limits are."

He grunted his agreeance, waiting for you to set the water bottle down before taking a position in the middle of the basement and ensuring there weren't any obstacles nearby that could harm you while you were moving around in the illusion. You stood a few feet in front of him, staring him right in his grey-colored eyes. 

"This might take a moment," you told him, keeping your gaze focused on his own. "I need to maintain eye contact while I activate it." When he nodded his head to show he understood, you continued. "Got any preferences?"

He shrugged. "Do whatever you want, I don't care."

"All right then..." You dug deep within your mind and activated your quirk, causing a faint lavender gleam—visible only to yourself—to spread out around your surroundings. You then closed your eyes, focusing all your energy into creating an illusion around the two of you. Already, you could tell the radius of your reach was much smaller than it used to be. It would cause you to constantly move around with Fukui to ensure he would stay within the illusion. You briefly thought about what kind of illusion you wanted to cast, eventually settling on a simple field to start off easily.

You imagined how the sky would look—mostly clear with giant, white cumulonimbus clouds peppering it here and there. The type of clouds where, when one would gaze up at them, they would briefly think about just how small they were in the grand scheme of things. You imagined how wide and open the field would look, grass that brushed along your calves gently swaying in the breeze. Flowers would dot the field here and there, colors of red, purple, blue, and orange popping out against all the green. You imagined how clean the air would smell, one whiff being enough to bring clarity to anyone's mind. 

When you opened your eyes, everything you'd pictured appeared before you, expansive and beautiful. The clouds, the grass, the flowers. It was just as you had imagined it. 

Except, well, for a few things. 

"Something tells me you hadn't meant for those to be there," Fukui said in a slightly sarcastic manner, eyes pointedly looking at the random pieces of furniture from your basement that still surrounded you. 

You groaned, holding a hand against your forehead as you glared at one of the chairs that had a few towels thrown over its back. "I guess I'm still a bit rusty." You then let out a sigh, straightening up as you observed your surroundings. While you had managed to get the illusion to be as realistic as possible, there were still a few things that just felt off to you—apart from the furniture. For one, everything was stock still, almost unnervingly so. You could see cracks starting to appear around you, signifying a fault in the illusion. You frowned, already feeling a headache rear up as you let the illusion fall away. It shattered in a manner similar to throwing something at a mirror, revealing your basement once more. 

You hummed, rubbing a hand against your chin as you glanced at Fukui. He looked a bit nonchalant, bored even. "You don't look too surprised." Normally people would be a bit more... enraptured at your illusions. But you guessed Fukui was not like most people; you didn't think you'd seen him express more than three emotions during your sessions, to be frank. 

His eyes met yours briefly before he shrugged and looked away. "I've seen similar shit." 

You hummed again, then let your hand drop to your side. "Let me try again, maybe I can patch it up more." Making eye contact with Fukui once more, you closed your eyes and let your mind wander, eventually settling on a nice mountain view that'd popped into your head. You activated your quirk and focused, painting a vivid picture in your mind of what you imagined it looked like. Then, you opened your eyes. 

"Oh, nice." You grinned in approval as you looked around. You were standing at the edge of a small cliff that overlooked a forest to your left. The sky was wide and dyed colors of navy, tangerine, lavender, and pink as the sun just barely winked at you from the horizon. Grass tickled your feet, a few daisies here and there. To your right were trees and bushes, a small gap visible from between a few shrubs that indicated the end of a hiking trail. You breathed in, but still smelled your musty basement air. Damn.

"It's got less cracks in it than before at least," you said after a bit, turning to observe the sky as you noted the cracks that were prevalent on it. You looked around some more, feeling a bit happy that there were no random pieces of furniture laying around. It was still strangely frozen though, but not as much. You rubbed your head, feeling a headache start to thrum at the back of it. You were nearing your limits, it seemed. You turned around to glance at Fukui, noticing he had wandered a bit so that he was standing in front of one of the trees behind you. "What'd you think? Pretty good for a second try, right?"

When he didn't answer, you walked over to him, watching as he stared at a point on the trunk of the tree. He raised his hand to touch the trunk, but just phased right through it. You gently rested a hand on his shoulder, then stepped back as he whipped around to face you. You opened your mouth, then closed it at the sight of his tense jaw, his clenched hands. 

"Are you okay?" you asked with a raised brow, finding it a bit strange how he was practically piercing through you with that stare of his. He watched you some more, then eventually opened his mouth. 

"D’you recognize this place?" he asked quietly and you could just barely make out the strain in his voice. 

"Umm," you glanced around once more, "not really? I mean, I might've seen pictures of it online, but I don't know." 

"What made you choose it, then?" His hands were unclenching and clenching, as though he didn't know what to do with them. 

"I don't know," you repeated confusedly. You turned your head to stare out at the horizon. You tried raking through your mind to figure out where you'd pulled this environment from, but you couldn't figure it out. You didn't think it mattered anyways. Your illusions were dependent on how well you could picture whatever you were forming—not on whether or not you'd been there. After all, if you'd wanted to make an illusion of something that didn't exist, it didn't rely on you having experienced it in real life. "Does it matter that much?"

His fists went flat and his eyes averted from yours, staring back at the tree once more. He was quiet for a bit, but eventually responded. "I fucking guess not." 

There was something strange to his voice, but you couldn't unpack all that right now. Your head was starting to hurt more the longer you stayed in the illusion. You let it shatter away before you, then exhaled loudly. Your headache eased up a bit, but not by much. You massaged your temples. 

"You done for today?" Fukui eventually spoke up, his hands thrusted into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was glaring down at the floor, though you had no idea what he was so angry about. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked in lieu of replying, warily eyeing him. There was a strange feeling tugging at your gut at the sight of him looking so bothered, but you brushed it away.

"Fine," he grunted and you decided not to pester him about it. "Well?"

You were about to throw in the towel for the day. But then you thought about your progress, how you'd realized that you'd always given up at the first sign of a headache. How you felt like you were regressing even as you trained and trained and trained and trained. Something had to change. And so, you decided that one more try couldn't hurt. 

"Third time's the charm." You sighed, giving him a wry smile after. He nodded his head and you both walked back over to your previous position in the basement. He allowed you to make eye contact with him before you closed your eyes and focused. Your mind drifted, searching for something to conjure. Your head hurt, god it hurt. But you pushed through the pain. This was nothing, you just had to endure it. One more time, you told yourself, trying to ignore your headache that seemed to get worse with your quirk activated. One more time. 

You opened your eyes.

The walls were bleak, mostly empty.

Painted a white color that only made the lights even brighter. White tiles were arranged on the floor, and the walls themselves looked to be made of a sort of steel. 

You froze, mind not yet caught up, headache thumping away. 

Click click click click click.

"Wha..." Your voice got caught in your throat as you twirled around, eyes darting all over the place. Fukui said something from behind you, but you didn't pay attention, too busy taking in your surroundings. You were in a hallway, a metal door open a few feet away. When you glanced up, a camera stared at you, a blinking red light on it that made your heart race inside your chest. You grit your teeth, finding yourself staring at the open door. A pit seemed to open up in your stomach at the sight. You didn't want to check it out. But yet, your feet seemed to move of their own accord, and you found yourself standing in the doorway, staring at what was happening within it.

You didn't recognize the room. There was a metal table in the middle of it, a singular camera positioned in the far right corner. A familiar poster hung on the left wall, but you gave no mind to it. Your gaze was focused on the person who lay on the table. 

It was you. And yet, it wasn't.

It was Réalité.

Next to the table was... was him. It was Doctor Shin. He was holding a syringe with a dark blue liquid in it—similar yet not similar to the light blue of the Quirk Nullification drugs he had previously injected you with. Your hands clenched into fists as you watched Doctor Shin turn from the cart by his side, attaching a needle to the syringe. 

"This one's difffff'rent," Réalité slurred dryly as she eyed the syringe. She was tied down to the table, unable to move in even the slightest way. You took note of the way Réalité's face was drained of color and drenched in sweat. She looked like she was struggling to keep her eyes open—like she’d been injected with a sedative of sorts. "'aven't... perfected it, h-haaaave you?" 

"No, not yet," Doctor Shin said, and just hearing his... his awful voice was enough to make you take a step back, your head pound, pound, pounding away. "But that is why we have you, my dear. We're close, I can feel it." 

"When I get out of here... IIIII'll fucking kill you, I ssswear," Réalité cursed as she attempted to spit at the doctor. It didn't land very far. He only tutted at her and injected the needle into her arm, filling her with that vile substance. The sight of it made you want to throw up. 

"That’s not very hero-like of you now, is it," he chuckled, taking a step back as he waited for the effects of the drug to kick in. "Now, I am still unsure of the side effects it has in its current form, so do not be alarmed if—"

"FUCK you." Réalité's arm jerked as she tried to lunge towards him, but her constraints prevented her from doing so. "I sssswear I'll kill yyyou."

"Must I remind you to behave again?" Doctor Shin folded his hands together and looked at Réalité in a pointed way that made you confused. But whatever he was hinting at was received loud and clear to Réalité, for she glared harshly at him. 

"If... if you touch h—"

"Then behave." 

Réalité hissed, a heavy frown marring her features. Her arm jerked again, but then so did her legs. You watched in silent horror as Réalité started to writhe on the table, restricted in movements, but unable to do anything about it.

"It burns," Réalité groaned, the table shaking with the force she was using to attempt to get free. Sweat poured down her face, her torso twisting about as she panted and gasped. "It burnnsss!!" 

"Hmm." Doctor Shin reached over to the cart to grab his clipboard from it. He jotted down a few notes, occasionally glancing over to Réalité to see the effects the substance was having on her.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of Réalité, watching as she bit her lip with enough force to prevent herself from screaming. Your head hurttt, your head hurt hurt hurt. You were frozen, you couldn't move. Couldn't look away. It took all the strength in your body to tear your gaze away from Réalité to look at Doctor Shin. And once you did, your heart practically leapt up to your throat. 

He was looking right at you.

He slowly set down the clipboard, rounding the table with slow, purposeful steps as he approached you standing in the doorway. Your mind was racing with thoughts of No no no, and Don't come closer don't come closer. Your eyes shrunk, still unable to move as he stepped closer... and closer... and closer.....

A hand gripped your shoulder. 

You whipped around with a scream, the illusion shattering into pieces around you as you found yourself, once more, in your basement. But you were frozen, your eyes locked onto grey-ones that seemed to burn, burn with an emotion you could not place. 

And you realized you were shaking. 

Your fingers trembled violently, and you stared down at them so you couldn't see those bright, bright eyes. You realized, quite suddenly, that you couldn't breathe. Your chest heaved and your eyes darted around, ensuring that there was none of that... that unnerving bright white color surrounding you. You couldn't stop shaking, thoughts full of Doctor Shin. How he was going to hurt you. Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt you. He was going to hurt— he was going to hhh—

Click click click click click.

"Hey." A voice attempted to pull you from your thoughts, but you couldn't hear. Couldn't think. Your head hurt, god it hurt so much. Why couldn't you remember that moment? Why couldn't you remember that? Why couldn't you remember, remember, remember? It was bright in here, it was too bright in here. What was wrong with you, what was wrong wrong wrong—

"Look at me." Something harshly gripped at your chin, forcing your head up so that your eyes met sharp grey ones. You couldn't focus all your attention on them, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe—

Something pinched your arm. You flinched back, but it wasn't enough to pull you from the torrential storm plaguing your mind. There was another pinch on your other arm. Then on your cheek. On your hip. And you found yourself getting annoyed enough that you were able to glance up into Fukui's eyes. 

"Look at this," he instructed you once he was sure he had your attention, holding up his water bottle he'd managed to snag sometime while you were drowning in your thoughts. Your gaze focused on it, unsteady yet still there. "Describe it." 

You were quiet for a moment. "I-it's—" You had to search a bit for your words, your voice coming out strained as you attempted to get your breathing under control enough to answer. "Black. With white str-stripes around the top. And.... and a red sticker on the side." 

"Good," he complimented you, one of his hands still gripping onto your trembling ones. He pointed to an analog clock on the wall, your gaze following his finger to land on it. "Now describe that."

Again, you did as you were told, shakily sprouting out details of the clock that'd caught your attention. Fukui did that a few more times with you, waiting as your breathing and trembling leveled enough that you went slack in his hold. Your head sank down, and with it, the rest of your body. Both you and Fukui ended up on the floor, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt as his arms held you against him in a hug so tight. As though if it were any looser, you would shatter into a million pieces. And you certainly felt like doing so, with your forehead resting near the crook of his neck as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

You were lost. You were confused. You were embarrassed. 

But most of all, you were terrified.

There was a moment where all you could hear was your hitched breathing. Then you spoke. 

"I couldn't remember," you croaked out so quietly it almost wasn't there. You didn't think you could be any louder. "I couldn't remember."

"You're okay," he said back to you just as quiet, one of his hands rubbing circles into your shoulder. He pulled you closer, hair brushing against your neck. "We're okay."

"It hurt," you choked out, biting your lip when you felt hot tears slip down your cheeks. "It hurt so much."

"I know," he whispered, one of his hands clenching into your shirt as he closed his eyes. His jaw tensed, eyebrows furrowing as he held the back of your head. "I know."

#bakugou x reader #fmnkb #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #reader insert #ummm #yeah<3 #i also added some details to prev chapters

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [19] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4.7k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part eighteen    part twenty

There was the ticking of a clock, succinct and quiet, that seemed to echo around the room. With your hands clasped together on your lap, you waited, watching as the second hand continued its perpetual movement about the round face of the device. You hadn't been sitting there for long, thankfully, and the couch you were on was rather comfy, so it didn't bother you that you'd been left alone. You expectantly glanced back and forth from the clock to the open doorway that led out of the small room. The room itself was pretty cozy-looking, painted a warm orange color with a few green plants scattered around. Paintings lined the wall, abstract in nature, with an oak desk positioned somewhere to the right in front of the curtained windows.

Fiddling with your fingers, you ruminated on a few things that had been swirling around your mind for a while now. You'd contacted Hinata to get the details on the dinner Ashido had mentioned at your little meetup last week. It'd turned out there was indeed a shiny new invite sitting in Réalité's work email, details about the dinner enclosed within it. You had yet to decide on your course of action, thoughts awry with the faces you knew you would see if you dared to step foot in the building the dinner was being hosted in. But to refuse would cast a bad image on Réalité, and you couldn't have that. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place for sure. 

Then there was an entirely different issue that you recently realized you had: the more you thought about your time in the facility, in the hospital, the more you realized your memories of those times were fogged up. Muddled. The days blended together. You could barely grasp at certain images, details slipping through your fingers like water. It was worrying, yet somehow you found yourself unsurprised. In addition to not particularly wanting to think about those instances, you were also hopped up on medications and heavy trauma at the time. It made sense that your brain would choose to forget. There were still specific things you remembered, however. Flashes of phosphorescent eyes, the White Room, syringes, spiky blond hair, pain, pain, pain, pain pain—

You shook your head slightly. There was no use in falling into that rabbit hole now. 

You still ended up asking your doctor about it though, when you went for your check up. Doctor Akira speculated your quirk might be reacting to your experiences, your trauma, in unhealthy ways. That is, through memory suppression, or even Retrograde Amnesia. It explained why you couldn't remember being questioned by the police while you were in the hospital, like Tsukauchi had told you a while ago. Why you couldn't recall the bits of information Kirishima had told you about the rescue mission when you’d first met. Why you didn't remember being specifically informed that Doctor Shin was still out there while you were being questioned. And it made you wonder if you were missing anything else, if there was a way to stop your quirk from fucking with your mind even now.

Luckily, you had an idea of where to start. 

"Sorry about the wait." A crisply dressed person hurried through the open door before closing it, fixing the cuffs on their sleeves as they bustled over to the desk. Shuffling some papers around, they spoke again, "I was just finalizing some of your paperwork. I trust you weren't too bored?"

"No, not at all," you replied politely, watching as they gathered some papers in a clipboard, then walked over to the small armchair settled directly across from you. There was a matching oak table with a few drinks and a bowl of candies set in between you. The therapist, Doctor Ackerman, sat down then crossed their legs, warm eyes immediately finding your own.

”Good. Now I am obligated to tell you that these sessions are to stay between you and I only, unless something arises that I am legally required to tell the police,” they said, offering a small smile. “Nothing will reach the general public, or any ears outside of this room for that matter. I want you to feel comfortable; it will make it easier to talk. Understand?” 

You nodded in response, rubbing the skin around one of your fingers in an almost anxious manner. This therapist in particular was given to you by the Hero Commission. Doctor Ackerman was trained specifically for pro heroes, which made all of this much easier to converse about since they were well versed in the intricacies of hero-ing. They'd also been debriefed already about your situation—well, they were given as much information as the Commission was willing to release. It was still an ongoing police investigation after all. 

"All right. Now I just want you to relax, help yourself to anything." They waved a hand to the table and its contents. "My quirk is emotion-based. It will allow you to feel calm and ease tension in your mind to help you with talking." That would definitely come in handy. "The first thing I want you to do is tell me anything. It doesn't have to be related to your time while kidnapped, though you are welcome to talk about that if you would like. Just talk."

You remained quiet for a few moments, still fidgeting around a bit as you pondered upon your possibilities for conversation. Now was your chance to finally begin to unpack the thoughts that swirled relentlessly around in your head. You didn’t want to beat around the bush, not really. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for this, willing to finally unlock that burdensome chest in the back of your mind. You could do this. You could do this. It would be the best for your path towards recovery. So with a few more mental encouragements to simply get it over with, you opened your mouth. 

You talked about the facility, what you remembered about your time there despite the murkiness of your memories. The pain, the testing, the torture. You talked about the conflicting thoughts and feelings you had regarding your amnesia and interactions with heroes you supposedly knew. You talked about your worries, your constant sense that something was missing, but you didn’t know what. On and on, you let the words just escape from your mouth, not bothering to censor any details. As you spoke, you felt your shoulders loosen up from their tense position. Your fingers stopped fiddling with each other and came to rest on your thighs. It became easier to talk, and you supposed it was in part due to Doctor Ackerman’s quirk. It felt like you were slowly tearing down this thick barrier in your head, ripping it apart mental brick by brick. And it felt so good. So satisfying. 

Your throat had gotten hoarse with how much you spoke. Your tongue, dry. You were given a glass of water, which you gratefully chugged down before continuing your word vomit. Doctor Ackerman was nothing but patient, occasionally jotting down a few things as they listened. You eventually found yourself stalling and contradicting yourself as you talked about... Bakugou. You just didn’t know what to think anymore, especially after meeting up with Hitoshi. His words had led to many restless nights, confusion forming a dark cloud over your mind.

"I just— it feels like I don't know anything anymore," you sighed out in admittance as you clutched onto your refilled glass of water. "I'd been so certain that he was the source of all my... problems. But I— I'm not sure now. Not after what Hitoshi told me, and I trust him. I really do. There's no reason for him to lie to me. Right?" 

"There's not," Doctor Ackerman replied calmly. "You've been using Dynamight as a sort of scapegoat for what you'd been through for that half year. You have to come to terms with the fact that it was not him who hurt you in the facility. It was Doctor Shin." 

"I— I know that, but—" You fumbled with your words, a headache starting to pound away at your temples. Your mind was trying to rebel against you, you realized, and you did not like it one bit. "But it feels wrong to think that. It feels like—" You gulped heavily, tapping your fingers against your glass. "Like something bad will happen if I think otherwise."

"Again, that is all the result of what you underwent," Doctor Ackerman repeated, glancing down momentarily at the clipboard in their hands. "You mentioned that one of your friends informed you of your brainwashing?"

"Hitoshi, yeah," you confirmed with a small nod of your head. You were uneasy, thinking about the implications of... brainwashing... even as you still attempted to wrap your head around it. "Why do you ask?" 

"What are your thoughts on his claim?"

You frowned, reminiscing about the meetup that had occurred not too long ago. Uncertainty plagued you like a malevolent virus, corrupting the very programming that you were composed of. "I don't know. I... Part of me doesn't believe him but—" You bit your lip, thinking about the way Hitoshi had seemed so firm, so sure of what he was saying as he stared at you unrelentingly in the eyes. "But... what he was saying… made sense?" Your mind felt like a puzzle set with missing pieces. Pieces that you were so desperately trying to find. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that things just... didn't fit together. Didn't add up. And that bothered you so fucking much.

"The key to undoing the effects of brainwashing is to first acknowledge it," Doctor Ackerman told you gently, not even refuting Hitoshi's previous persistence. "From then on, progress can be made. You have to come to terms with it: Doctor Shin brainwashed you. Say it." 

You took a deep breath, willing your mind to cease its frantic thoughts. You hadn't realized it before, but your fingers were digging into your palms, crescent indents appearing on your skin. You forced them to relax. "Doctor Shin brainwashed me," you said quietly. Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight..... Right?

Click click click click click.

You weren't too sure anymore.

Doctor Ackerman nodded in approval, interlocking their fingers over their clipboard. "I'm going to assign you a little homework, if you don't mind." When all you did was raise a questioning eyebrow, the therapist continued. "I want you to start small with acknowledging Dynamight. Nothing too big, maybe just give him a little Google search." They then frowned a bit, a small crease appearing between their knitted eyebrows. "It might help you out in the long term as we figure out why you... dislike him, of all heroes." Why you had been conditioned into disliking him went unsaid.

You pursed your lips, but agreed with the therapist's words. There was no denying the fact that something was wrong when it came to Bakugou Katsuki. But you didn't know what, and if you dwelled too much on it, you only felt terrible inside. Your head would start to hurt, and you would just be reminded of pain, so much pain, so much pain pain pain. This was all important for your recovery, you kept telling yourself. You were going to need to do things that you didn't want to do, and that was fine. You could handle a few news articles, maybe some pictures and videos. It was nothing. 

And yet, as you continued on talking with Doctor Ackerman, you couldn't help the sinking feeling that appeared in your chest.

---

Not too long after you got home, you found yourself resting on your bed, your legs hanging off the side as you stared up at a familiar ceiling. You had another session with Fukui in an hour or so, but you found yourself with nothing to do as you waited. Well... there was something, but you couldn't help but procrastinate, not looking forward to the emotional turmoil you knew you were going to have to deal with. A sigh left your lips, your head turning to stare at your phone that rested innocently on your pillow.  

You were reminded of the evening you had looked yourself up, along with a selection of other heroes. That day had been immensely confusing, contradicting. You bit your lip, weighing the pros and cons of picking up your phone. But in the end, it didn't matter how much your stomach churned, or how much your head was starting to throb. You reached over and picked up the device, turning it in your hands so that you could stare at your reflection in the black mirror. 

Let's just get this over with.

Turning your phone on, you went straight to the Chrome app and entered the name 'Bakugou Katsuki'. With only the slightest trace of hesitation, you hit enter and immediately started scanning the articles that popped up. Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight by most people, was the number two hero. The explosion hero. He mainly dealt with raids on villain hideouts, seeing that his quirk was so loud and eye-capturing. Though he did play his part in assisting with disasters and rescues. He did what he could to help as many people as possible, constantly vying with Deku and Shouto—the number three hero—for first place. Though... many articles seemed to refer to him as some sort of Symbol of Victory. Hmm. 

It was a bit impressive how young most of the top heroes were, actually. You recalled the ages of some of the heroes you had researched a while ago. They were all in their early to mid twenties and had already made such big names for themselves. You supposed each advancing generation was stronger than the ones before it. 

You scrolled through a few media outlets, trying to grasp at his character as they detailed the numerous missions he had completed over the years. He wasn't as outgoing as Deku, who tended to visit hospitals and fans a lot. Actually... the media kind of portrayed Bakugou as a bit mysterious. Hot-tempered, at times. Though, he'd gotten caught up with the League of Villains a lot when he was younger. You could vaguely remember—

[ You let out a huff, squinting your eyes at the poster. "That's Dynamight, otherwise known as Bakugou Katsuki. Or so I've been told." 

"Yes," Doctor Shin responded, tilting his head slightly. He shifted his feet. "Do you recall anything about him?" 

You pursed your lips, trying to make sense of the tingle of familiarity in the far recesses of your mind. "He... He goes to U.A. doesn't he? Actually he should have graduated by now, I don't know, I've never met him." 

"That's correct," Doctor Shin replied in a pleased manner, making another note. He watched you with a calculated look, making you suddenly feel self conscious of your answers. You told the truth -- you really didn't know much about the boy except that he went to U.A. and was involved with the Kamino Ward incident a few years ago. He was kidnapped, wasn't he? You weren't sure, your memory was still struggling to eradicate the few patches of fog in your mind. "Listen to me carefully Miss; you hate him." 

"I hate him," you repeated in slight confusion, remembering the voice that drilled itself into your mind earlier. Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate Bakugou Katsuki. ]

—him getting kidnapped. You shook your head a bit with a grimace that you quickly brushed away, turning your attention back to your phone.

There were a lot of articles criticizing Bakugou as well—some even went as far as to compare him to a villain, with the way he acted at times. His quirk, apparently, also led to the destruction of a lot of property. This was especially frequent when he was just starting out as a hero, but he'd gotten better at it in recent years. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read an article about the destruction of an entire abandoned building in one of the more impoverished districts of Japan. He paid for damages, of course, but it was a bit alarming all the same. 

Exiting out of the article, you went straight to his Instagram account, deciding that maybe the media wasn't entirely a good source to rely on for information. It was pretty bareboned, a couple of pictures posted of himself or with some friends. As you scrolled through his posts, you realized that you hadn't really seen any connections between him and Réalité. It was weird... It was confusing. After all, if Réalité hadn't really interacted with Dynamight, then why were you having a hard time dealing with the idea of Bakugou Katsuki? Where was the link?

Your head hurt. 

You did a bit more digging around and found out that he used to intern for Best Jeanist. Then he worked as a sidekick under said pro-hero for a bit before making a name for himself, eventually managing to land his own agency. This was the connection; it was faint, but it was there. He had worked as a sidekick around the same time you did. But other than that, there were no mentions of any of your exchanges—public or not—especially after he broke away from Best Jeanist's agency.

You were confused. The longer you spent staring at article after article, contemplating your emotions when thinking about Bakugou.... the harder your head seemed to pound. Part of you wanted to recoil away, tuck yourself under your blankets and forget you had ever decided to do this. Part of you wanted to stick a villain label on Bakugou and call it a day, blaming him for all the trouble you had gone through. It would be easier, so much easier. But you couldn't—not after your beliefs had been shaken so much and glaringly obvious evidence was right before your very eyes.

This just didn't make any sense. There weren't really any articles showing that Bakugou was a villain either. Was a terrible person. Sure there were criticisms, but that was to be expected for a hero. Still... if they compared him to a villain, then maybe there's some basis for a claim like that? Maybe there was something he did that wasn't covered by the media? God, you didn't know. You didn't know and there was no way to find out about things like that through the internet. You needed opinions.

Opinions from people who weren't clearly biased. 

....And you had an idea of who to ask.

---

"You're distracted."

"Was it that obvious?" you huffed out as you ducked below another carefully aimed punch from Fukui. You were getting more and more accustomed to fighting with your cast on. At least, it no longer hindered you as much as it did within your first few sparring sessions. You pivoted on your heel to send a kick to the back of his knees, but he evaded with a quick step to the left. 

"Yeah," he grunted as you punched him on his forearms that had been raised to block his face. "You didn't even notice that I've backed you into a corner." 

"Huh—" Just as you turned your head to glance at the walls that were much closer to you than you expected, you felt a hand grab onto the front of your shirt. With a yelp escaping your lips, you could only surrender yourself as Fukui pulled you forward and to the side, using his leg to sweep your feet from below you as he all but slammed your back onto the floor. You groaned at the rough impact, then let out a wheeze as Fukui sat sideways right on your stomach, pinning you to the floor. 

"Jesus, you're heavy," you grumbled as you half-heartedly slapped at his back with your left hand, trying to get him to move. He was going to squish you flat into a pancake at this rate. "Get your fat ass off of me." 

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes down at you, his head moving to glance at the clock on the wall to his left. "Maybe if y’got good you wouldn't be in this situation." 

You squinted your eyes up at him, a retort ready on your lips, before something caught your eye. Just barely visible, behind Fukui's right ear. There was a small tattoo of a sun, nearly hidden within his strands of dark hair. It tugged at your mind. Something about it seemed so—

[ "Would you ever get a tattoo?" you asked out of the blue as you shuffled your way down the streets. It was cold outside, so you were both bundled up in your jackets, arms linked together with your hands in your pockets. You both had scarves wrapped around your faces to conceal your identities with beanies nestled comfortably on your heads. The sun had set a while ago, inky darkness overtaking the sky; it was pretty late. There were hardly any other people out and about, what with the cold weather and all. He hummed thoughtfully, eyes focused on the path before you. 

"Maybe," he said with an indifferent shrug, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Already got a piercing." And it looked great on him for sure—not that you would admit that to his big head. 

"We should get matching ones." You grinned, tilting your head forward so that you could peer up at his blurry face. He quirked an eyebrow. 

"Of what?" At least he hadn't refused. 

"I dunno," you frowned as you contemplated it, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess." 

"Where would we even put the damn things?" He rolled his eyes, tugging you out of the way as a few teenagers rushed by, laughs echoing in your ears. "If any of the stupid paparazzi sees 'em, they could make the connection." 

"Then we can get different tattoos or something." You scratched the side of your cheek with your free hand, then buried it back into your jacket pocket. "We can get it..." You raked through possible places to put it. Not on your arms—that would be too noticeable. It couldn't be on your torsos, since your hero costumes tended to get ripped a lot. Your ankles, maybe? Or— "Behind our ears! That's a good place, right?" 

He hummed lowly, thinking about it. You waited in anticipation, your eyes brightening when he finally gave a shrug. "Okay, whatever." ] 

—familiar. But you couldn't quite place your finger on why. 

As you blinked back to awareness, you felt Fukui finally shift off of you, standing over your sprawled out body. You rubbed your stomach, still feeling his weight on top of you as though he had never gotten up. A hand stuck itself into your face and you grasped at it, letting him pull you carefully to your feet. You grumbled a bit as you fixed your clothes, not noticing the way Fukui was observing you. 

"Well?" he asked almost impatiently once you had finally glanced over to him. You raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight so that it wasn't entirely on your cast. 

"Well what?" 

"Gonna tell me what the hell's on your mind?" He crossed his arms as he fixed you with a piercing stare. You rubbed the back of your head, mulling over a few things. This was your chance. You nodded slowly, gaze drifting off to the side. 

"Okay, can I ask you something? About your job?" you started off easy, still trying to phrase what you wanted to say in your head. Fukui gave you a look that told you you could. You hesitated a bit, then opened your mouth. "Have you worked with... Dynamight?" 

He shifted, uncrossing his arms to stick his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You've asked me that already, shouldn't you know?" 

You blinked, a bewildered look sliding onto your face. "I have?? When?" 

He shrugged, eyes drifting upwards as he thought about it. "Fuck if I know. It was during one of our sessions." He then eyed you warily. "You don't remember?" 

You only stared at him with wide eyes, raking your brain through all the sessions you'd had so far to think about when you could have possibly asked about Bakugou. This wasn't good. A sinking feeling nestled itself deeper within your chest. Was your memory getting worse? Were you forgetting things even after your time in the facility? In the hospital? You were going to have to talk to Doctor Ackerman about it—if this continued, there was no telling what other things you could have forgotten. Important things.

For now, though, there were other things to focus on. 

"That's besides the point." You shook your head, waving a hand around. "I just wanna know what you think of him." 

"What I think of him," Fukui repeated, raising an eyebrow. You nodded your head in response. "Why does it matter? Don't you hate the guy?" It sounded like he was a bit disgruntled. 

You sighed. Loudly. "Why’re you asking all these questions? Just answer me. What's your opinion on him?" 

Fukui remained quiet for a moment, his eyes staring down at a point somewhere on the matted floor. You waited patiently as he collected his thoughts on the matter, not wanting to rush him. You had time. "I think he's a good hero," he finally said quietly. You shifted all of your attention to him. "Heart's in the right place. Sure he's got a bit of a temper but," he swallowed, "he means well." 

You hummed, taking his words into careful consideration. That sounded similar to the views many people had of him—which included both the authors of articles you'd read online and his friends from U.A. "Would you say he..." You hesitated, still trying to find the right wording, but pressed on anyway. "Would you say he's... villainous? Like... has he done anything bad? Hurt people?" At the look on Fukui's face, you felt the need to explain yourself further. "It's just—I've read a lot of articles online and some people really don't like him...." 

A loud scoff escaped his lips that had pulled into a harsh scowl. "The media doesn't know jack shit. Dynamight ain't a villain at all, they're jus’ tryna pick at him for no fucking reason, like they do with every damn hero." His voice then lowered a bit. "He... Maybe he's hurt people when he was a stupid kid, but t’say he's villainous?" He scoffed again. "Gimme a fucking break." 

There was something odd about the way Fukui was speaking, but you couldn't quite figure it out. You let out a weak chuckle. "Sounds like you know him quite well, then." 

He let out a short bark of laughter, eyes shifting to the side. "Y’could say that." 

"Well, in any case, thanks for telling me," you yawned out as you stretched your arms, already feeling them getting sore from the beating you took in the last hour. You felt like you owed him a bit of an explanation. "I'm just trying to sort through some things. I appreciate it." 

For a second, it looked like Fukui wanted to press you for more details. But he bit his tongue and only gave you a short nod, turning in the direction of his water bottle. You watched him for a moment, then drifted into your thoughts, trying to sort through what he had told you. Despite hearing his opinion, you still felt very conflicted. You didn't really know what to think anymore. Your head had been hurting, your legs aching. You'd been trying to suppress a tremble in your fingers. Part of you knew that the only way you could determine if.... if Bakugou really was innocent, that he wasn't the source of your agony, was to meet him in person. Talk to him.  

But the mere idea had your heart stuttering in your chest, your fingers clenching into fists. 

You weren't sure if you could do that. But your progress couldn't stall for long. It had to happen. 

You just hoped you wouldn't combust on site when it did.

#fmnkb #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #reader insert #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #man what kinda baku story is this he hasnt shown up for like 10 chapters :// #sorry guys </3

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [17] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4.8k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au, trigger warnings for nightmare, choking, some gore, panic attack. buckle up y'all shit's getting real(er)

part sixteen     part eighteen

It was dark. 

You weren't exactly sure where you were. All you knew was that you were surrounded by a deep, abysmal darkness that seemed to envelope your figure. It raised goosebumps along your arms, the coldness trailing sharpened fingertips up and down your figure. You tried looking around, but you couldn't tell if you were moving your eyes. You didn't even know if your eyes were open, for that matter. All you knew for sure, was that you were alone. And it was so, so dark. 

You didn't know exactly what to do. You were sure if an outsider were to be peering over at you, they would see you floating in the inky black that stretched on for god knows how long. But you could feel yourself standing on something, rooting you to the nonexistent ground. You didn't dare test the sturdiness of it, too afraid that it would shatter into a million pieces of glass and leave you drowning, drowning in oblivion. With nothing to do, however, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You began to walk. 

You couldn't exactly tell if you were moving anywhere, but you knew you were putting one foot in front of the other. You could feel yourself doing it. But you couldn't see yourself. You looked down, expecting to see some sort of outline of your hands, of your body, but there was nothing. It was strange. You didn't know what was happening, so you just walked, hoping to find some explanation for where you were and what you were doing. 

You couldn't tell how much time had passed as you walked. You'd been counting the number of steps you were taking, but once you had hit a number well past three hundred, you'd stopped. It was unnerving. It was kind of boring, too, now that you thought about it. It didn't help that you felt you were being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling from the tension. Or was it because of the cold? You didn't know. You didn't dare stop walking, however, too scared of the possibility of inky hands reaching up to grab at you in your moment of hesitance. 

Eventually, you saw something in the distance. It was a small pinprick of white light, but it appeared so bright in the darkness that it was nearly impossible to miss. You squinted your eyes at it before picking up your pace, curiosity gnawing at you as the speck grew larger and larger in size. It was almost as though it was beckoning you over, enticing you to reach it so that you could grasp it within your hands, and hold it near your heart. But once you got close enough, you realized it wasn't a light. 

It was a door. 

It wasn't facing upright in front of you. Rather, it was lying down on the ground. The door was a very white color that almost hurt your eyes that had gotten accustomed to the miles and miles of oppressive obsidian. You paused before it, observing the smoothness of it—like it was made of metal. You walked around it so that you were standing at the side with the doorknob. Squatting down, you reached your fingers out to grasp at the knob, feeling the cool metal nearly burn your skin. With a twist of your wrist, the knob turned, and you were able to open the door, allowing it to swing 180 degrees away from you so that the front of it would be resting upon the ground. 

But the door didn't stop opening. Instead it opened a full 270 degrees, hanging down from the frame in the shape of an upside down ‘L’. You paused for a moment, but didn't question it. Bracing your hands on the edge of the frame, you peered down into what looked like a room. Though it was far, far below you, painted a bright white color. If you squinted, you could see something in the middle of the room that was too small to properly make out. You felt like Harry Potter, staring down at the pensieve in Dumbledore's office. And like Harry, the moment you tipped yourself forwards to try to see what was happening more clearly, you fell. 

The door slammed shut.

You felt yourself falling, felt the wind rushing through your hair and scattering it all over your face. You felt weightless, your arms and legs moving around as you tried to grasp onto something, anything, to no avail. You wondered how long you would be falling for. But the moment the thought crossed your mind, you found yourself in a chair. 

A very... familiar... chair. 

In a very..... familiar.... room.....

Click click click click click.

Eyes widened, breaths quickened as you attempted to get up. Something was latched onto your wrists and ankles, however, and when you looked down, you saw thick, metal bands wrapped around them. You struggled. You pulled. You pushed. You tried flinging yourself out of the chair. You tried using your quirk. But you were trapped. You were stuck. The poster in front of you seemed to almost leer evilly at you, so you avoided looking at it, instead electing to sporadically let your eyes observe the room. 

Not again, you gulped down a whimper at the sheer emptiness of the White Room. The threatening loneliness. Not again. You had escaped, you were sure of it. You had escaped. But no, you were still here, still trapped. In a small, square room. Painted a white color that only made the lights much brighter. The same shorts and tank top adorned your figure. The floor was still cool against your bare feet. The camera still clicked away in its corner. Click click click click click. Just nonstop. Please, anything but this.  

A sudden crackle of a P.A. system. A familiar voice echoed around you, battering down on your eardrums a sentence that was all.... too.... familiar....

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

"Shut up!" you hissed out, struggling against your bindings once again to no avail. They chaffed the skin of your ankles, cut into your wrists like a knife through butter, sending oozing blood dripping to the floor. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

"Go away! Leave me alone!" You tried leaning forwards, but found that there was something attached to the back of your head that prevented you from moving too far. 

"How rude. And here I thought you would be delighted to see me again, Miss." 

Your eyes snapped up to the side, flinching back slightly at the sudden appearance of a man with phosphorescent eyes that were the bane of your existence. Doctor Shin's eyes crinkled as he held a syringe filled with the dreadful light blue Quirk Nullification drug in his hand, the grey mask on his face hiding the wide smile stretched beneath it. You shrunk into your chair, but your eyes narrowed at him, daring him to step closer and inject you with that foul substance.

"Why am I here? What did you do? I thought I—" The words got caught in your throat, choking you without mercy as the doctor let out a humorless laugh. It sent shivers skittering your spine, and you realized you were in trouble. So, so much trouble. You were in trouble for attempting to escape. You were in trouble and there was no one to help you. You were in trouble and you couldn't even defend yourself.

"You thought you escaped?" His mocking words were followed by another chuckle, and before you could see what he was doing, he plunged the needle of the syringe into your arm, injecting the liquid into your body. You bit back a groan as a headache you hadn't realized you had started pounding away at your temples. Beat after beat, just hammering away to a vigorous song you were forever destined to dance to until your feet bled with the effort to keep you standing. "Thought you were able to easily slip by without us noticing?" 

You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear your hair from your head in the wistful hope that it would alleviate the pain you were feeling. You were trapped, trapped in a small box that didn't let you go no matter how hard you pounded your fists against the white walls. Agony, it was agony. Your fingers trembled like leaves in a breeze, your breaths quickened to match the staccato thumps of your heart. Your mind was frenzy with the thoughts of what would happen to you. You were in trouble for escaping, so, so much trouble. He was going to torture you, he was going to—

A gasp got caught in your throat as Doctor Shin ripped the glove off of his hand and slammed his palm against your neck. Glowing fingers gripped harshly, a choked sound coming from your lips as he lifted you from the chair and suddenly slammed you into the wall. Stars erupted from a volcano in front of your eyes, dancing around and whispering taunts in your ears. You choked and gasped, desperately clawing at the burning hand that gripped your throat, setting each and every nerve on fire. 

"You thought you were strong enough?" Doctor Shin asked calmly as his fingers squeezed, and you hated how smooth his voice sounded. Hated him with every fiber of your being. You tried kicking out, tried using your nullified quirk, tried reaching out to break his glasses and scratch his eyes. But his hold didn't relent, and before you knew what was happening, he started.... to melt. 

His skin dripped and slid down his figure, chartreuse eyes glowing bright, bright, brighter than ever as he stared right at your watering eyes. The smell of burning flesh attacked your olfactory cells, and you watched in horror as his face sagged down, skin dropping onto your exposed hands and arms as it slid to the ground. Another face was emerging from behind the shredded skin of Doctor Shin, though it still spoke with his voice. His words.

"You, the number eight hero, who couldn't even prevent yourself from getting kidnapped?" A villain with slitted, green eyes hissed at you, dark green scales littering the arms that still pinned you against the wall. You gasped for air, trying desperately to kick out and get the villain to let go. But he took all your kicks to his chest with a grain of salt, not relenting in the least bit as he grinned a sharp grin and melted like Doctor Shin. 

You wanted to look away. You wanted to breathe. You didn't know how much longer you could last. But you could only stare straight ahead at the melting villain, whose dripping skin revealed scarred hands. Whose bright green eyes liquefied to reveal burning crimson ones. Whose dark hair fell to the ground to reveal spiky ash-blond. And you were scared, so desperately scared at the wide smirk that stretched across his tanned face. His hand that wasn't squeezing the life out of you, slammed against the wall next to your head, an explosion coming from it that sent your ears ringing. 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight."

Click click click click click.

"You're weak! Pathetic!" Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight, snarled at you in Doctor Shin's voice. Eyes, crimson eyes, burned through your very soul, and you choked, gasped, clawed, screamed. He was going to hurt you. He was hurting you. He was hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt— "You're not a hero. You can't ever be a hero. Recovery? Training? Don't make me laugh! You think you can become what you once were? That easily?"

You're wrong, you wanted to gasp out. Your limbs felt heavy, your feet dangling above the burning, burning ground. Your hands weakly gripped at the arm that still had you against the wall. Darkness was starting to blur your vision, hot tears streaming down your quivering cheeks. And yet, the crimson was still unrelenting. Still burning. 

But he was right. He was right. How were you going to be a hero like this? You were broken. You'd been mauled beyond recognition by a man with a syringe. There was no way you were going to be able to regain yourself, to stand in the shoes of Réalité. You were useless. You were hopeless. Forever designed to remain a slouching victim in a world where only the strong could stand straight. You were weak, you were weak. Everything hurt, your head hurt, you were so fucking weak—!  

You woke up with a gasp. 

Trembling hands gripped at your throat, clawing at an invisible force that sent you floundering for mouthfuls of cool air. Everything was dark, the quiet of night interrupted by the quick inhalations you made in your attempts to calm down. But no matter how much you gasped, you still couldn't breathe. Your chest felt stifled, like there was something heavy sitting upon it. Your heart felt like something was squeezing it, preventing it from beating in the natural way it was supposed to. You curled up on your side, biting down on a finger as you tried to stifle the small heaves and cries you gave out while trying to breathe. Just breathe. 

Your head pounded. Your throat was parched. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that only seemed to get deeper the longer you lay there. You squeezed your eyes shut, stuffing your face into a pillow in the hopes of not disturbing any others sleeping around you. You weren't sure how long you lay like that, trying to get your breathing under control and preventing yourself from toppling off a cliff into never-ending distraught. It took all of your remaining energy to just soothe yourself into a somewhat calming state. 

When you finally sat up, you felt more exhausted than you had in years. 

Bleary eyes blinked around at your darkened room, moonlight shining through the window onto the floor. You wiped at your eyes, feeling the stains your tears had left as you had cried—in your sleep or not. Your blanket pooled around your waist, your skin itching where the cast rested upon your foot. You cleared your throat as softly as you could, staring down at your bandaged arms. Arms that were adorned with the scars of the torment you'd gone through under a man with no morals. 

A sigh left your throat, eyes shifting to look at the crib against the wall near your bed. You could see Saki slumbering peacefully away, undisturbed and untouched by the plight that you were going through. Your lips tugged upwards for a moment, but fell back into a neutral position.

You tore your gaze away from the baby's small face and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling until the sun started poking its way into your room. 

---

"You look like shit," was the first thing Fukui said to you once you'd opened the front door to let him in. 

"Really? I didn't notice," you quipped sarcastically as you closed the door behind him. Your parents were out for the day, getting another appointment done for Saki. It gave you and Fukui the perfect opportunity to train your quirk without their prying eyes and ears. You waved him off when he opened his mouth to retort, telling him to go downstairs before starting an argument with you. He reluctantly complied after giving you an odd look, making his way to the basement door where he disappeared down the stairs. 

You crutched your way to the bathroom before you followed him, splashing your face with water again to wake yourself up. Dark circles lined the bottom of your eyes, a small wrinkle on your forehead making you seem more tired and older than you felt. You'd been getting nightmares for a while now, but they'd never been as bad as last night before. You'd gotten sleeping pills to help, but you were already taking copious amounts of medications to deal with your injuries already. So you'd tried to avoid using them, instead attempting to deal with the nightmares. It didn't work. You were exhausted, but that wasn't a valid excuse to ditch your training session. You gave your reflection a pointed stare, then turned to head down to the basement. Moping around would do you no good.

Once you stepped off the stairs and set your crutches against the wall, you turned to face your trainer who was eyeing you with a look in his austere eyes that you couldn't place. 

"Y’get any sleep last night?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watched you take your place across from him on the mats. 

"What are you, my mom?" you shot at him grumpily, not wanting to talk about it—much less with someone you've known for a few weeks now. You didn't notice how his jaw clenched at your words.

"Well fuck me for asking," he shot back just as grumpily, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Let's just get this shit done with. You said you wanted to train your quirk today, right?" 

"Yeah." You nodded, starting to stretch out your limbs when he gestured at you to copy his motions. 

"Well, what specifically? You're gonna need to tell me shit about your quirk before we can get started.” He rolled his eyes, drawing a huff from your lips. 

"My quirk is illusion based, but I also have an aura that I can manifest," you explained as you stretched your arms out. "I can warp reality around either myself or others to make them see different things, though I'd need to make eye contact with someone first before I can trap them in an illusion." 

"And your aura?" Fukui asked, his eyes seeming to pierce through you. 

"I can manifest it to do offensive attacks.” You shrugged, thinking it would be obvious what your quirk was since you'd been a hero and all. "They can take on the appearance of hands, but they can also be beams or a shield." 

He nodded as he processed the information, and you continued to stretch for a few more moments. You wondered what he was planning. His face was impassive, making it difficult to get a read on him. Once you finished stretching, he instructed you to back away to the opposite end of the basement. You did so with an eyebrow raised, watching as he positioned himself as far away from you as possible. 

"So what are we doing?" you called out to him, watching him crouch down into a fighting stance. An explanation would be nice. 

"I want you to try to pin me down," Fukui told you, his eyes never once leaving your body. You scratched your head. Well how the fuck were you going to do that from all the way over he—

"Using my aura?" you asked once it hit you. That didn't seem like a fair match for him, but you supposed that was the point.

"No fucking shit." He rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing. You huffed. "Just don't move from there and try to pin me before I reach you." 

"All right then." You shrugged, readying yourself by crouching slightly and holding your hands out in front of you. There was a moment of silence as you concentrated on building your aura. Your eyes narrowed as his legs tensed. 

"Whenever you're rea—" 

Before he could complete his sentence, your purple aura shot out of your palms, taking on the form of hands as you aimed to wrap him in them. You had to be wary of the surrounding area, seeing that your aura was strong enough to decimate hard structures—though your sustainability time was certainly sub par now compared to.... before. You put in all your focus to trap Fukui, but to your surprise, he dodged your attack by leaping up and doing a front flip out of the way. Your jaw would have dropped if it wasn't clenched so tightly to combat the headache starting to rear up again. 

He shot you a crooked grin—a look that practically boasted about his athletic skills. "That all you got?!" 

Your response was to shift your aura again, plunging it into the ground in an attempt to catch him off guard. He evaded your attack again with ease when your aura attempted to grab him from behind, constantly taunting your pathetic attempts. You had to admit, he was definitely much faster than you'd thought—and agile beyond all comprehension. He just kept leaping out of the way! It was like he could read your moves before you could even execute them. It was irritating. It was also starting to aggravate you, the way he yelled out watered-down insults to try to motivate you. It wasn't the best way to get someone to push themselves to their limit, but by god, it was somehow working. 

"Oh, what the hell??" you grit out as you attempted to corner him against a wall, but he just ran towards it and used it as a platform to push off of, flipping in the air once before landing on his feet. Okay, now he was just starting to show off. 

"Keep your guard up!" Fukui barked out at you, bending backwards to avoid another grab at his torso. You were trying, you were really trying. But your headache still continued to pound away. It had started as a dull throb near the back of your head, but as the minutes had gone by, it slowly made its way to your temples. Your limbs were starting to feel a bit sluggish as well, your eyes hurting every time you darted them around to focus on his swift figure. You didn't have much longer until you would lose your grip on your quirk. 

At one point, you had just barely managed to get a hold of his arm with your aura, tugging him down to the ground until he was on one knee. A sound of triumph left your lips as he struggled to escape your grip, but just as you prepared to slam him fully against the floor, a burst of pain cleaved through your head and your aura weakened to the point where he was able to shake it off and lunge forwards. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at how sudden and steadily worse your headache was getting. You just hardly had time to set up a shield as Fukui shot towards you, but he was able to wave off the weak bit of defense you'd formed and grasp you by the shoulders. 

"Wai—!" you yelped as he gave a crooked grin and used his arms to twist your body towards him and capture you in a headlock. 

"Too late!" He smirked as you clawed at his arms wrapped around your neck. Your neck. Let go let go let go let go, he's holding your neck, your neck, your neck—

"I-I give!" you gasped out, trying to level your breathing. You tapped on his biceps with the flat of your palm. There was a sinking sort of feeling that was starting to crawl up from your stomach to your chest. Don't panic don't panic don't panic don't panic—

He released you from the headlock and you dropped down onto your knees, trying to take in deep breaths without making it blatantly obvious. Your fingers were trembling, so you clenched them into fists, still trying to push down the steadily rising hollow feeling. You kicked and punched at it, attempting to lock up any thoughts about your neck your neck your neck choking choking choking hero you were no hero—

A hand suddenly landed on your head, snapping you out of your spiraling stupor as you glanced up at Fukui. He was watching you with a soft look in his gunmetal eyes, glancing at your clenched hands and heaving chest, before connecting his gaze with your own. 

"Not bad," he said simply, ruffling your hair around. "Don't sweat it—"

[ You frowned as you pounded a hand on the floor, frustration building up inside of you. You were mad. You were irritated. You were angry. All at yourself. What kind of hero were you, if you couldn't even apprehend one villain? Damn it. You were lucky that there was no one else around to see your pummeling out your frustrations on the ground beneath your—

"The fuck are you sulking for?" 

...Never mind. 

"I'm not sulking," you lied as you lifted your head up to watch him walk over to your curled position on the gym floor. His hands were positioned on his waist, his blurred face tilted towards you. He let out an audible scoff. 

"Yeah right and I'm All Might." He clicked his tongue, moving his arms in front of his chest to cross them. There was a small pause. "Is this about the villai—" 

"Yes this is about the damn villain!" you groaned out, untucking your legs from beneath you so that you could properly sit your ass on the hard wood beneath you. "I can't believe he escaped! I let him escape, I'm so mad—"

"Hey.” A hand landed on your head and you looked up to his blurry face with a heavy scowl plastered on your own. "It's just one stupid villain. You'll catch 'em next time and beat the shit outta him, ya hear?" 

"I guess..." You sighed only to flinch when he started to aggressively ruffle your hair. "Stop! My hair!" 

"Don't sweat it, idiot." He snickered as you attempted to swat his hands away to no avail. You sighed out and gave him a small smile, feeling just a tiny bit better. Because of him.

"Thanks." ] 

—all right?" 

"Yeah." You nodded numbly, settling yourself more comfortably on the floor. You breathed in as deeply as you could, then released it as a big sigh, slouching down and pressing your palms into your eyes. Your headache was still thumping at your temples, but at least the hollow, sinking feeling was starting to slowly ebb away. "Fuck, that sucked." 

Fukui made a noncommittal grunt, squatting down so he could sit besides you. He leaned forward to let his elbows rest on his crossed legs. "How'd your quirk get so damn weak?" 

Your breaths paused, your lips curling into a frown. How blunt. While you knew your quirk had definitely gotten weaker from all the testing and... stuff... that you'd undergone at the facility, it felt different to hear it actually be spoken from someone else's lips. It was like a confirmation that you were no longer as powerful as you used to be. And you didn't know how to feel about that anymore. 

"If it's all right with you," you began, turning your head slightly away from him as you pressed your hands harder into your eyes, "I don't wanna talk about it." Back and back and back you pushed all the memories and feelings away, making sure to lock it with chains and bolts. "Not now," you added on when you felt him tense up slightly. 

You both entered a comfortable silence, listening to the silence that surrounded you and your deep breaths that occasionally disrupted it. You focused on steadying the racing of your heart and the jittering of your fingers. Your headache dulled down to a low thrum, and it was only then that you finally felt how exhausted you were. Doing a simple quirk exercise had drained you this much.... it wasn't reassuring. You let your hands fall to your lap, staring down at the bandages that still adorned them. While the skin there was finally healed, you hadn't found the will inside you to take the white material off yet. You just didn't want to see the scars that decorated your arms, the awful reminders they gave you. 

You tore your gaze from them to look at your trainer. Your eyes traced over his unblemished features: the sharp curve of his jaw, the beauty mark near his eye, the long eyelashes. There were a few beads of sweat on his face from the workout you had put him through. He was staring off into the distance, but upon feeling your gaze at the side of his face, he turned to look at you with a raised brow.

"I never asked before, but," you started a bit hoarsely once your eyes met. You cleared your throat slightly. "What's your quirk?" 

He paused, and you could see he was deliberating whether or not to tell you in his head. You waited patiently, just observing his expression. And when he opened his mouth to tell you, you dropped the subject with a thoughtful look on your face. 

"I'm quirkless."

#fmnkb #im not here shh #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #reader insert #katsuki x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #hey look! new fic banner :)

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [18] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 5.7k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part seventeen     part nineteen

A gentle breeze that hinted at an oncoming thunderstorm wafted through the air, ruffling through your hair. Your hands were getting slightly sweaty from gripping at your crutches for so long, using them to amble down the quiet streets. Sunglasses and a cap adorned your head as usual, offering some form of anonymity among the few people that milled about. You squinted as you looked around for a place to sit, noticing an open bench a ways in front of you that was under the shade of a large sycamore tree. 

With your growing comfort in interacting through text with Kirishima and Kaminari, you had found yourself easily agreeing to meet up with them on a day where you weren't too busy with training. They'd told you a few others would be joining, and it hadn't taken much for you to figure out who. A week or so ago, they'd added Pinky and Cellophane—whom you'd learned were named Ashido Mina and Sero Hanta, respectively—to the group chat, and you'd gotten to learn more about them and their history with you. It didn't take much to convince you to meet up with all four of them at a quiet area near Fatgum’s agency, seeing that he wasn't too far (but still far) from your parent's house. Kirishima, you'd also found out, still worked for the large pro-hero—which had been slightly surprising since you’d assumed he had his own agency, being the number six hero and all. You guessed you should've paid more attention to his job detailing while searching him up on your phone. 

Thankfully, your parents hadn’t questioned you much when you’d announced you were going out for a walk. They'd been busy cleaning the house, and while you had felt slightly bad you were just leaving them without helping, you'd realized you couldn't really do much with your cast still on your foot. That, and they'd practically shooed you away, not wanting you to overexert yourself. The gesture had made you roll your eyes—you weren't that helpless—but you'd still taken the easy opportunity to slip away without being heavily questioned. 

You sighed out in relief as you plopped down on the bench, placing your crutches to the side so that they were propped against the seat. Slipping your phone out of your pants to glance at the time, you frowned slightly when you saw you were about half an hour early to the meeting. You'd overestimated how long it would take you to hobble your way to the rendezvous point—which was a small café just down the street from where you were sitting. It was one of the few in-the-wall café's that pro-heroes were able to take a break at without anyone passing by recognizing or bothering them. Hopefully that held true. Pocketing your phone, you glanced around, content with some people watching as you waited—though there weren't many around anyways. 

Part of you felt slightly nervous at physically being in a group of people who knew more about you than you even knew yourself. There was no reason to be anxious, you kept telling yourself. These people were kind and helpful. They had no reason to trick you.... No reason... You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point, with how repetitive your thoughts were becoming. It was frustrating, but you couldn't find it in you to stop overthinking everything and spiraling back down into previous thoughts that you'd assumed you'd already settled. Apparently you hadn't. Subconsciously, at least.

Relax, just relax. It's just a friendly gathering. You could trust them.

You could trust them. 

...So why did you still feel like you couldn't?

You suppressed a groan and rubbed at your head, hoping that you wouldn't get a headache today. They'd been happening more and more frequently lately and you didn't know why. You supposed it was natural since you had amnesia and all. Thinking about it still felt surreal to you. That and with all the nightmares.... You really didn't want to think about it. You slumped back against the bench, watching a few birds pass by overhead. You felt tired... But at least it was nice to actually be outside in the open air instead of... trapped. In a room. You didn’t know how long you sat there swimming in your thoughts, before a sudden voice to your right caught your attention. 

"No calls... no texts..." You turned your head, eyes widening slightly as a tall figure walked towards you, his hands buried in his pockets. You recognized that drawling voice, recognized the deep purple eyes with white pupils that were directed right at you. "Not even an email. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." 

"Hitoshi!" you gasped, sitting upright as the man stopped right next to you, looking down at you with raised eyebrows and a small, crooked smile. His indigo hair on his head was shorter than you'd remembered, but still unruly. Heavy bags no longer lined the area beneath his eyes, but he did sport a bit of scruff along his jaw. He was wearing regular clothes: some jeans and a hoodie that was partially covering his head. He looked so.... different. He was more buff than you'd expected and much healthier-looking, too. It made you feel strange—and that was what prevented you from latching onto him in a hug (plus your cast). "How the hell did you know I was here??"

"A little birdie told me." He shrugged as he sat down next to you, slumping down and tucking himself further into his hoodie. You didn't miss the way he eyed your injuries, focusing on your cast before moving to look at the bandages still wrapped around your arms. You raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look at his words. He rolled his eyes. "A little birdie with yellow hair and an annoying flirting addiction." Oh.

"Were you... invited?" You were hesitant to elaborate any further in case he wasn't, but you visibly relaxed when you saw him nod. It made you wonder who else had been told.... and what they'd been saying about you behind your back. "I didn't know you knew Kaminari and the others."

"Well, you did know," Hitoshi said as he looked at you. If you watched him carefully enough, you could almost see a sort of exhaustion that still lingered around him; in his slouched shoulders, in the lines along his forehead, in the faint bags beneath his eyes. You wondered..... if you were the cause. Or part of it. "Apparently now you don't, huh? Haven't really heard much about it. Guess I'm not close enough to you to know." His words had a slight teasing lilt to them, but it still made you feel guilty.

"Who told you?" you probed quietly, turning your gaze away from him to stare out at the street. As far as you were concerned, only a select few people knew about your amnesia: some doctors, your parents, the heroes you’ve interacted with.... Had they been spreading the news to others? You didn’t know how to feel about that. 

“You realize you’re friends with a lot of heroes in the top twenty, even top thirty, right?” he pointed out to you instead of answering your question. You averted your eyes, fiddling with your fingers as you listened. “Even if you don’t remember them, they remember you. And a few of them might go looking for answers as to what happened to you when you never returned to work.” 

“That includes you, huh?” you asked with a slight smile, meaning it to be rhetorical, but when he gave you a deadpan look and nodded anyways, you felt your smile drop. You slouched forward a bit, suddenly feeling the guilt from before increase tenfold. "Hitoshi, I... I'm sorry I didn't contact you. I didn't have my phone and I've forgotten... a lot... but I did go back to our old apartment building and—"

"It's fine," he cut your ramble off, waving off your pitiful excuses. His eyes glanced at your face before moving away to stare down at the pavement. "I'm just glad you're not in a ditch somewhere," he breathed and you swallowed thickly, silently agreeing with him. A silence settled around you after his statement. You wanted to ask him about how he's been, how it's been like being a pro-hero.... but you knew he had questions, and you knew he would be expecting you to answer them. You wondered if you would be able to. 

"So," Hitoshi spoke up after a few minutes of you just sitting next to each other. You rubbed the skin around one of your fingers in slight anxiety. "How much do you remember?" It was just like him to dive right into it. At least that hadn't changed about him, you thought wryly.

"Curious, are you?" You sighed out, reaching a hand up to rub at your temple. You could trust him, you knew this. "I've forgotten six years." Your voice was no louder than a whisper. 

Hitoshi hummed, closing his eyes as he processed your answer. It must've been hard to hear this right from you. "Did your doctors say anything about getting them back?" 

"They said my quirk's repressing my memories." You scratched your head, shrugging your shoulders when you saw him look at you with a raised eyebrow. "So I guess I'd just have to figure it out on my own for the most part.... It's not much to go off on." 

"Well that sounds like bullshit." Hitoshi frowned slightly, crossing his legs at the ankles as he leaned his head back. "Mind-quirks are tricky," he said as he pointed to his forehead. Then he added on dryly, "I would know." 

"I know." You sighed again, thinking about what limited information you had in regards to getting your memories back. "I can only try to train it, I guess. It's the only thing I can think of doing anyways." It was a very delicate situation. Delicate, and completely new territory for you and for the people supporting you—and that made it frustrating.

"What about therapy?" he inquired slowly. You bit your lower lip, thinking about how adamant your parents had been on the matter. Not that you cared what they thought.

"I'm working on it," was all you said. You needed to message Hinata later to ask if the Hero Commission had approved a proper therapist for you. Bless that woman and her access to Réalité's financial resources. Your parents didn't need to know about that... and you'd prefer to keep it that way. You looked at your friend, noting the way he chewed slightly on the inside of his cheek as a contemplative look crossed his face. You knew what that meant. "You can ask me more questions.... you know. I don't mind." Just don't ask about specifics, you pleaded to yourself.

"What..." He hesitated for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he should continue on. But he did anyway. "What did they... do to you?" 

You licked your lips, suddenly feeling them get dry. You wanted to tell him everything, confide in your friend about all the troubles weighing down on your mind, on your body, on your soul. But.... just looking at him, at the way he'd changed so much.... You just, couldn't. You didn't know if he was the same person that he had been when you knew him six years ago. That younger version of Hitoshi... the one with sleeping problems and a lanky figure.... was the one you felt comfortable with. Not this one. 

But you knew you could still trust him, at least with some things.

"Drug testing," you muttered, rubbing a hand along your arm as you felt a slight pain come from your forearms. "They... kept me in a room, strapped me to a chair. Took my quirk away. It's all still... fuzzy. I— I can't talk about it." Not now. Not in public like this. But when? was the constant question on your mind. You wished you knew.

"I heard you were brainwashed," Hitoshi commented almost offhandedly, and you shot a questioning look at him, the corner of your lips pulling down into a small frown. Brainwashed? That was ridiculous.

"Where did you hear that?" you almost snapped at him, but managed to soften your voice. There was no need to get riled up. Right? "I haven't been brainwashed." 

"Yeah you have." He gave you a piercing look, his eyes locking onto your own strictly. He sounded so sure of his statement, so firm. You couldn't look away, you came to realize, as he seemed to read you as easily as an open book. 

"No I haven't." You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. He gave you a look that you recognized as the one that signaled he was getting exasperated. You only raised an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to continue on with his accusation. 

"You hate Bakugou," he remarked in a somewhat bored manner, phrasing it more as a statement than a question. The mere mention of his name was enough to send a shiver scuttling down your spine, your eyes narrowing slightly as you tried to figure out what your friend was getting at. 

"Okay, and what if I do?" you spat out defensively. "He's hurt me. He's a villain." Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight. 

"And that's how I know you've been brainwashed." Hitoshi closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts as you quietly seethed beside him. Don't tell you he also defended that— that bastard of a hero? Were you the only one around here who knew who he actually was? It was aggravating. You could feel a dull throb near the back of your head. 

"I haven't been brainwashed!" you grit through your teeth, only to jump slightly as Hitoshi grabbed your wrists and tugged you so that your body was twisted and facing him. He firmly held on to you as he forced you to look right at him, one of his hands releasing one of your wrists to tug your sunglasses off before assuming its original position. You blinked at the sudden brightness, but focused your gaze on his own, slightly surprised at his actions.

"You've been brainwashed," he emphasized once you locked gazes, eyes piercing through your own with solid conviction. 

"I hav—"

"No, listen to me," Hitoshi asserted, tightening his grip slightly on your wrists. It wasn't painful, but you were starting to get irritated—and confused.  What was he trying to do? "I know a thing or two about brainwashing." Well, you knew that.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Yeah, but I h—"

"No, you've been brainwashed. Acknowledge it," he repeated again. You were really starting to get frustrated with him. Why was he being so persistent?? It was starting to make your head hurt, a steady pounding that originated from the back of your head and made its way to your temples. Hurting, always hurting.

Click click click click click.

"But—"

"Would I lie to you? Don't you trust me?" Hitoshi asked quietly, eyes boring into your own with such an intensity that you had to close your eyes and look away for a moment. 

"I do trust you, but—"

"Then accept it. You've been brainwashed," he said for a final time before he released your wrists and slumped back down onto the bench, burying his hands in his pockets. You watched him for a moment before slowly settling down and slipping back on your sunglasses, your headache still rearing its ugly head. You were confused, a plethora of emotions convoluted in your mind. You were frustrated, part of you still struggling to determine what he really meant. You were irritated, wondering why he was acting this way when you hadn't done anything wrong. 

...Had you?

Before you could even start to deliberate upon what he was saying, a voice had called out your name, a sudden weight landing on your upper torso that had your breath hitching in slight surprise. 

"[Name]!!! Girl, it's been so long since I've gotten to see you!!!" 

"L-likewise..." you gasped out unthinkingly, feeling relief when the person on your lap pulled away to instead hold you by the shoulders. It was Ashido, you realized, recognizing her pink skin and equally pink hair. Behind her stood Kirishima and Kaminari, along with a black-haired individual with large elbows who you assumed was Sero. They were all dressed in casual wear, with either a hat of sorts, hood, or sunglasses obscuring their faces. It was strange, in a way. You all looked like you were part of some ragtag group of miscreants with a terrible sense of fashion.

"Hey [Name]! Hitoshi! Been waiting here long?" Kirishima raised up a hand to wave at you, Kaminari shooting you a wink while Sero smiled and let out a “yo!” 

"Nah, we were able to do some catching up." Hitoshi shrugged, hoisting himself off of the bench to stand by the others. 

"Catching up, huh?" Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows before letting out a yelp as Kirishima punched him on the shoulder, a wide smile still on his face. You would've laughed at their interaction, but Ashido was looking you all over, turning your head this way and that. 

"Have they been feeding you? You look like Small Might!" The pink female frowned, only to have her hands pushed away by you as you sat up and reached for your crutches still resting at your side. 

"I'm fine. I've been training," you replied, using your crutches to push yourself up so that you could stand next to the group of your.... acquaintances? Friends? Who knew at this point... 

"Oh yeah, with Tatsuo, right?" Kirishima questioned, and you recalled the time he'd stumbled upon you both at the Naruto Ramen place. Once you nodded your confirmation at him, he asked another question. "How's that been going?" 

"It's a work in progress," you sighed out, following the red-haired male as he gestured to you all to start walking down to the café. You set off at a slow pace that had you feeling self-conscious, aware that you weren't able to travel as fast as them with your cast. 

"Tatsuo's pretty good as a trainer, isn't he?" Ashido trotted next to Kaminari, a sly smile on her face as she looked at you. "Pretty good-looking too, am I right?" Now both Ashido and Kaminari were looking at you, their eyebrows moving up and down in sync. What the fuck.

"I... guess?" your voice pitched upwards in a questioning manner, wondering why they were behaving like this. Did they all know who Fukui was? Well... he did say he'd trained quite a few pro-heroes. "He's beaten me up a lot sooo.... Mixed feelings about him." 

"Typical," Hitoshi sighed out, eliciting a chuckle from Kirishima and Sero.

They struck up some more idle chatter as they arrived at the café, entering through the front door. It was nice and quaint, with walls painted a lovely rose color and vanilla scented candles placed on top of each table. A display case at the front held a wide variety of pastries: cupcakes, croissants, crêpes, cakes, anything and everything. Kirishima spoke with one of the waitresses who greeted you all near the entrance and guided you to a remote booth near the back of the café, away from any windows. Everyone slid in, with you being at the edge so that you could stretch out your leg with the cast upon it. Your crutches were propped up right next to you along the side of the booth.

After everyone ordered from the small menus that were already on the table, they settled down and turned to look at you. You raised an eyebrow at their inquiring looks, already knowing that they would likely want to ask you questions as well. You did expect all this, but it still made part of you feel tired. 

"I still can't believe you're here," Ashido spoke up first from her position directly across from you. She'd lowered the hood on her head and slid her sunglasses up so that they were perched on her pink hair. One of her elbows was propped up on the wooden table, her cheek resting on her rosy fist. "It feels kinda surreal, not gonna lie." 

"Man! Tell me about it!" Kaminari exclaimed, sitting up straight from right next to Ashido. The big sun hat he was using to cover his bright hair had been pushed back so that it was behind his neck. "Eijirou found you at that villain's attack with the big dragon dude. Nearly had an aneurysm when I saw you there!" 

"I nearly had an aneurysm watching the news," Sero sweatdropped, sitting right next to you. He turned his scarf-adorned head to look at you. "Weren't you fresh out of the hospital? Imagine taking on a villain that soon..." 

"Respect!!" Kirishima grinned, flexing his arms from next to Kaminari. "Bunch of people were buzzing about it, actually. Called it impressive that a hero still in recovery was out kicking villain ass!" 

"Got some major P.R. points for that!" Kaminari pointed out, though you could only listen on in slight awkwardness. 

“I hadn’t realized...” you mumbled just loud enough for the others to hear. You weren't watching the news as often as you should be. You still needed to get used to the idea that people were aware of who you were, and were actively seeking information on how you were doing. The more you thought about it, the stranger you felt, but you should've expected this. It was the life of a pro-hero that you'd been training to become for all those years.

“You were the talk of the day on a lot of channels,” Hitoshi told you, though you could barely see him from his slouched position next to Sero. “Especially when you just showed up at a hospital.” 

“Yeaaahh, speaking of, how the hell did you even get there??” Kaminari asked, all of them turning to look at you expectantly. You eyed them warily, rubbing your upper arm. You could talk about this, you tried to reassure yourself. It would be fine. This was nothing. 

“I just snuck out of the facility.” You shrugged in what you hoped was a nonchalant manner, trying to think of a way to explain it without talking too much about what you’d actually gone through. “Used my quirk to slip by the doctors to the exit, then walked through the surrounding forest for a few, um, days.” 

Sero let out a low whistle. “Why didn’t you escape sooner, then?” Two thuds from under the table caused the black-haired man to let out a yelp, Kirishima hissing out a “dude!” while Ashido muttered “insensitive much?”  

“It’s fine,” you said awkwardly, causing the heroes to settle down and instead turn to you to continue to listen to what you had to say. Your voice got smaller. “I hadn’t been, well, strong enough to.” There was a small silence after your response that was only interrupted when the waitress returned to set down your orders. You were thankful for the convenient timing. It didn't take a genius to see that your companions were heavily deliberating upon your words.

"You know," Kaminari started up again once the waitress had left. He slung an arm around the redhead next to him, who nearly dropped the milkshake gripped in his hand. "Kirishima was actually on the team sent out to rescue you! Right, dude?" 

"Yeah!" Kirishima smiled as he pointed his thumb to his hoodie-covered chest. "I think I'd mentioned it before. It was a small group of pros and some of Best Jeanist's sidekicks. We'd gone to check out the facility, but you were long gone along with some of the head honchos running the place." He then gave you a sheepish smile. "I know I apologized for it already, but I am sorry about that."

Suddenly, your throat felt all too dry. 

You tuned out the rest of Kirishima's story, focusing on the tiny bit of information he'd said regarding what you assumed was about the boss and Doctor Shin. You remembered Kirishima telling you about him being on the rescue team back when you'd first met. But he'd never mentioned the fact that the two running the facility were gone. No one had mentioned it to you. If you thought about it hard enough, you could just vaguely remember Kirishima apologizing to you when you had first met, but you couldn't really remember why. Was it because he'd told you about the missing villains? You'd always just figured they'd been captured when the rescue happened. You'd tuned out any information regarding them in the hopes that if you just didn't think about them, they wouldn't harm you and your progress towards recovery. 

Now that you knew for sure that they hadn't been captured, however.... and were instead out roaming around freely... 

You had to suppress a violent shiver from running down your spine. 

Who's to say they weren't looking for you at this very moment?

Just as you felt yourself spiraling down into a sea of worrisome thoughts, a voice shook you out of your stupor. You blinked a few times, looking up to see the pro-heroes looking at you with mixed looks of varying concern. It made your cheeks flush, a heat crawling up your neck at the fact that you'd lost yourself so easily. You really needed to get a hold of yourself. 

"Sorry, did you say something?" you asked, deciding that it wouldn't do you any good to think about those two villains being on the run. You needed to train harder. To be prepared in the case that they appeared before you. You needed to be strong. You weren't going to cower before them. All heroes needed to deal with villains like these, you told yourself. This wasn't anything new.

"I asked if you were going to the dinner coming up," Ashido reiterated, carefully watching you with those darkened eyes of hers. You avoided looking at Ashido, instead glancing around at the others.

"Dinner?" you probed in confusion, wondering what the woman was talking about. There was a dinner? 

"Yeah, every year this charity hosts a dinner for the top twenty heroes," Kirishima explained, his milkshake already halfway done. In fact, as you glanced around the table, you saw that you were the only one who hadn't eaten anything from your plate yet. Yikes. "To thank us for our services. It's a nice get together on top of this fancy building!" 

"I... wasn't aware." You furrowed your eyebrows. Were you expected to go? You didn't think so, especially since you weren't technically in the top twenty anymore. Were you? 

"I'm pretty sure you were invited," Hitoshi said, his hand twirling around the drink he had in his glass. "They'd be idiots not to." 

"Especially if they're following the official rankings," Sero added on. "The Hero Billboard awards haven't happened yet, so you're still in the top ten. At least until they update them later on." 

"Besides, it would be an insult to you to not have you there after what you've been through," Ashido huffed out as she crossed her arms, seemingly getting offended by the mere thought. 

"Well, even if you weren't, you can always come as my guest~" Kaminari winked, only to get slapped upside the head by Ashido. "OW! Okay, okay, you KNOW I'm only jokin— OW! Stop that!" 

"I'll look into it," you hummed, adding the dinner on to the list of things to ask Hinata about later. 

The rest of the time was spent chatting about hero work, and giving stories about all the numerous activities the little group of heroes had done in the past. They told you some stories about their U.A. days, never really addressing the fact that you had amnesia. You were glad for that, finding it nice that for once, you didn't have to think about your lack of memories. They showed you some pictures on their phones of things they'd done—whether it be poses, stupid pranks, or parties. They seemed like a really fun group of people, you decided. Fun and trustworthy. Right?

Of course, you didn't fail to notice that— that Bakugou had been in some of their pictures. But they didn't really point him out. 

It was refreshing. Though, you'd kind of expected them to mention him since you were aware they were all friends with the, the villain. 

Hitoshi's earlier words came to your head. “Brainwashed.” While you didn't like the idea, and you were pretty sure you weren't brainwashed... the logical side of you did have to admit that his words were something to consider. He wouldn't lie to you like that. Would he? No, he wouldn't. And the more you thought about your time in the facility... the more you realized you couldn't really remember precise details. You weren't brainwashed. You weren't. Right? Right? But it was not something you wanted to think about at the moment. You still got a heavy feeling in your stomach at the mere thought of— of him. 

You just needed to enjoy this little outing while you still could. 

It wasn't long before Kirishima groaned that he had to return to work, the others sighing out about their own patrols as well. You supposed that was expected; a hero’s work was never done, after all. Everyone paid for their respective meals before steadily making their way out of the café, tugging on their small disguises once more. 

"You sure you don't need us to walk you home?" Kirishima pressed worriedly as Ashido swung you around lightly in a hug. 

"I'm sure," you gasped out once the pink female let you go. You settled back down on your crutches, unable to swat Sero's hand away as he ruffled your hair before fixing your hat back on your head. "It's not a long walk." 

"We gotta hang out again!!! Okay? Girl time!" Ashido gave you a closed-eyed smile and a thumbs up, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. Yeah, you could do that. 

"Can I come?" Kaminari clasped his hands hopefully to plead at Ashido, but she only rolled her eyes. "Pleaaaase?"

"I said girl time! Not girl and Denki time!" 

"Here," Hitoshi suddenly voiced from beside you as he held out his phone. You glanced down at it and took it with one of your hands. "Give me your new number. That way you have no excuse to not message me." 

"I told you it wasn't intentional," you grumbled, but gave him a small smile and balanced on one crutch to input your number. Your chest felt lighter than it had in days, and you knew it was because of all of them. 

Maybe... you should be more open to interacting with the people you supposedly knew. 

"Get home safe!!" Kirishima waved and called at you as he and the others started to walk their separate ways. You had to grin at the shawl he had wrapped around his spiky head of hair. You leaned on one crutch to wave back at them, trying not to fall over.

"We'll text later!" Ashido jumped up and down, shooting you a wide grin. You watched them turn and walk in the opposite direction as you. Seeing them all walking away together from you gave you an odd feeling in your stomach. One that made you feel strangely isolated. You watched their receding backs for a moment longer before turning around to make your way back home. The whole outing hadn't taken more than a few hours, so your parents shouldn't be too suspicious. 

A sigh left your lips as you paused at a crosswalk, your mind sorting through all the thoughts and feelings you'd gone through for the day. You still had a lot to do, a lot to investigate and figure out for yourself. This had served as a nice distraction from all your worries, but now that it was over.... You could already feel the stress coming on from everything you'd learned.... everything you'd been enlightened to. And you wondered if it was a good thing. 

Just as you looked up to check if the stoplight had turned red yet, a figure from across the road caught your eye. He was standing directly opposite from you, his hands tucked in his lab coat pockets. A mask was on the lower half of his face, a splash of red on it that was a stark contrast from the surrounding grey. Dark hair was swept over phosphorescent green eyes—eyes that stared right at you. You paused, unable to avert your gaze from his. From Doctor Shin's. 

He was here.

Why was he here?

Click click click click click.

You took a step back, your throat feeling dry. Why was he here? Why was he in public? Why did he appear on a day where you'd just found out he was on the run? Why why why why why. You could see his eyes crinkle in a way that told you he was smiling. Your mind started to race with the possibilities of what you could do. Could you even do anything? What should you do? What should you do what should you do—

A bus passed between you on the road. When it rolled out of sight, the doctor was gone. As though he'd never been there in the first place. 

You blinked heavily, relaxing your tensed shoulders as you stared at the empty spot that Doctor Shin had been standing before. And you wondered if you were going crazy. If you'd just been imagining the whole thing. The way your heart pounded in your chest told you that this was not a good thing, real or not. A sinking feeling was growing more and more in your stomach, and you found you couldn't ignore it no matter how hard you tried. The previous light feeling you had from hanging out with the others was gone, extinguished with a snap.

You took another path home and locked yourself in your room for the rest of the day.

#fmnkb #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #x reader #god i have exams tho so #we'll see what happens #this is just me procrastinating

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not masterlist

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader (complete! ✅)

word count: 143k+

mentions: pro hero au, female pro reader, i gave u a quirk myself oop, written in second pov, angst w a happy end, amnesia fic, lots of trigger warnings before chapters pls heed them!!

summary: When you first woke up, you found yourself in a white room, lights blinding you from all directions. A bit disoriented, you squinted and looked around, realizing you were chained to a chair, your arms locked behind you. In front of you was a poster of a man, muscles rippling throughout his body, a spiky mess of ash blond hair nestled on his head, and striking crimson eyes glaring right at you from behind a black mask. In the upper right corner was the name "DYNAMIGHT" in black and orange letters. As you observed the poster, the sound of a P.A. system suddenly rang into existence, the deep, hoarse voice of an unknown person echoing around you.

"Your name is [Name] [Surname]," the voice said without emotion, "and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki."

can also be found on ao3 and quotev 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen 

Chapter Fourteen 

Chapter Fifteen 

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen 

Chapter Eighteen 

Chapter Nineteen 

Chapter Twenty

(i’m too lazy to post the final 9 chapters so go read them on ao3 😭)

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #fmnkb #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #amnesia fic #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x you

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [16] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 5.6k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part fifteen    part seventeen

A few days have passed since your first meeting with your personal trainer. It had gone well, minus the fact that you’d gotten your ass handed to you within the time span of five minutes. Not bad, considering you were in a pretty exhausted condition. Could you blame you? You were dealing with the last drops of your power and strength, after all. You tried your best, you really did. But yet, here you were again, getting the utter crap kicked out of you as you tried to fend off the brute force that was Fukui.

"Shit!" you yelped as you narrowly ducked beneath a particularly harsh blow that would have clipped you right in the temple. You stumbled a bit as you tried to regain your balance on your cast, but before you knew it, something hit you harshly on the side. It took all of your remaining strength to pivot yourself and send a kick with your good leg to Fukui. He dodged it by stepping to your right and quickly countering with an uppercut that you blocked with your arm and retaliated with a (pretty weak) jab at his chin. He let out a grunt as he dropped low beneath your punch and aimed a sweep at your legs. 

What a fucking cheater.

Too exhausted to dodge it, you stumbled and fell backwards, landing on the ground with a groan. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you lay on the matted floor, knocking your head on the ground with a sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. That marked your, what, seventh time losing? Your entire body ached with the bruises of battle delivered mercilessly by Fukui. You squinted your eyes as he loomed over your head, a smirk plastered on his face as he braced his hands against his knees. 

"That was hardly much of a fuckin' fight," he sneered down at your as though to boast about his own physical prowess compared to your own rather weak one. 

"Man, shut up," you grumbled, throwing one of your bandaged arms over your face to block out his smug look. With the amount of time you had been spending with him getting beaten up, you had found that he was pretty arrogant and crude, if not a bit quiet at times. It made you want to punch him in the throat sometimes, but you could never get too far for he was way faster and much more agile than you could ever be. "It was a goddamn massacre." 

"Yeah? Well how else d’you expect to improve? C'mon, get off the ground, loser," he snorted and straightened up, extending a hand out for you to grab. You lifted the arm from your face and gave him an unhappy look from your resting position. Reluctantly, you grabbed onto his sweaty palm—

[ "FUCK!" you cried out as you tumbled onto the floor, having been thrown down after letting your guard slip. You landed on the ground in a heap, hair mussed up around your face as you accepted defeat and lay there with an unimpressed look on your sweaty face. You hated fighting with him.

"Hah! Beaten again! How’s it feel getting your ass served twice in a row?" the young male gloated as he stood before you—you could practically hear the crooked grin on his face. You glared up at his blurred out features. 

"Shut up! You only caught me off guard, okay?" you grumbled as you frowned up at the ceiling of the agency's training room. "I still beat you before this, so you really can't boast about your measly wins." 

"Whatever, I still managed to kill your dumb ass." He clicked his tongue, straightening up and extending out a hand to help hoist you off the ground... again. 

"Rematch!" You grit your teeth, propping your body up slightly with one of your arms. His blurry head shook, a small snort escaping his lips. You didn't need to look at him to know he was smirking wider than before.

"Fine, if you wanna get beaten so badly. Get off the ground first, loser," he said with a huff, wiggling his outstretched hand slightly. You rolled your eyes and grasped his hand, letting out a sound of disgust at the sweat that was layered upon it. 

"Ugh, you're all gross and sweaty!" you teased him with a faux disgusted look on your face as he practically threw you up from the ground. You stumbled a bit to catch your balance and chuckled at the way he snatched his hand back from you. Irritation emanated from his body like steam from a whistling kettle. 

"Shut up! You're goddamn lucky we aren't using our quirks for this," he growled as he stepped back from you and crouched down into a fighting stance. "You would get fuckin’ annihilated." 

"Oh yeah?" you taunted, shifting your right foot back and putting your arms up in front of you. "You wouldn't even last two seconds with my quirk. Try me, bitch." 

He seethed before throwing himself at you and you laughed, finding amusement in how easy it was to rile him up. ] 

—and he hoisted you abruptly to your feet. You stumbled around a bit, trying to regain your footing without accidentally leaning your weight on your cast as you blinked rapidly and massaged your temples. You were starting to get a headache, your eyes squinting slightly at the lights around you that suddenly seemed much too bright for your tastes. You must've been too quiet, for Fukui gave you an odd look and stepped back a bit to give you some space. 

"Y’good?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows, watching as you blinked some more before letting out a small groan. 

"I think I'm done for today," you admitted in reluctance, letting your hands drop to your sides when you realized massaging your head did nothing to prevent the oncoming pain. "Got a killer migraine."

Click click click click click.

"Already? Weak," he poked at you, but when you didn't latch onto his taunt, he decided to leave you be. "Fine, we'll wrap up for today. No weak ass excuses next time, though, ya hear?" 

"All right, all right," you sighed with a faint smile on your face as you shuffled over to your water bottle. Taking a long drink from it, you watched your trainer walk over to his bag to grab a towel from it. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck, then bent down to grab his own drink. You averted your gaze and tossed your now finished bottle into the recycling bin near the stairs. 

Having Fukui as a trainer was both invigorating and a nightmare. He pushed you past your limits constantly, refusing to let you rest for too long before you were back fighting again. He seemed to focus more on the sparring side of training, but he did also force you to do other exercises with the dumbbells scattered around the basement. You were always exhausted in the aftermath of your sessions, your body aching into the next week, but you did have to admit that it was definitely helping you to regain your strength and energy. 

It was slow, but it made you feel better than you had in weeks—months, even. 

"I'm gonna head upstairs," you called out to him as you grabbed your crutches from against the wall. He gave you a nod as he chugged down his own water. It always took you a bit of time to walk your way up the stairs again, so you learned to do it while he was cooling himself down after your sessions. It made it less awkward for you since he used to have to wait patiently behind you to step up the stairs carefully. Talk about embarrassing. 

"Done already?" your mother called from the kitchen once you had made your way upstairs. You used your crutches to make your way to the open kitchen archway, leaning against the wall as you watched your mother bustle around with a baby bottle. You could hear your father in your room, playing around with Saki. 

"Yeah, got a bit of a headache, so I decided to call it," you admitted, fiddling with the grip of the handle on one of your crutches. 

"As long as you don't strain yourself you'll be fine." Your mother gave you a small smile, swirling the now milk-filled bottle in her right hand. Now that you were working on raising your physical prowess, your parents didn't hover around you as much anymore. Sure they kept a close eye on you in the moments following your sessions, but they didn't fuss over you too often. You were glad, but you also knew that even at the slightest sign of regression or shift towards hero-oriented training, they would cancel everything. 

At this point, you just wanted to hurry up and heal already. But you knew you still had a long way to go. 

The sound of footsteps from behind you had you turning around to see Fukui emerge from the basement door, his bag slung over his shoulder and his hands tucked in his pockets. You pivoted around, balancing yourself on your crutches before making eye contact with those gunmetal eyes of his. 

"Got everything?" you asked as a way to strike up some small conversation before he left.

"Yeah," he grunted out, his eyes darting from your face to the front door. You usually saw him out on the days you met. But before you two could make your way to the entrance of the house, your mother stopped you—as she routinely did. 

"Ah, Mr. Fukui, would you care for some more water? A snack, maybe?" your mother asked him as she stepped over to the kitchen archway. You rolled your eyes, already knowing what his answer would be. 

"No." The man dismissed your mother with a wave of his hand, his gaze lingering on something before he turned to start walking to the door. It was the same rude answer every time your mother pestered him with hospitality. You had honestly grown to expect it, but that didn't stop your mother's determination to be a good host. Your mother frowned at his curt reply, then eased up into a more relaxed expression once he uttered a short "thanks" as though it was a mere afterthought. Your parents had always been big on the whole 'attitude' department.

You gave your mother a shrug as though to say ‘well, what can you do?' then turned to crutch-walk behind your trainer. He slipped on his sneakers near the door and opened it, allowing the golden sunlight from outside to slip into the shaded living room. You stood just behind the entryway, one of your hands on the doorknob as Fukui stepped outside. But instead of bidding you a farewell like you expected him to, he seemed to hesitate, having turned back around to look at you. 

"Something wrong?" you asked him with an eyebrow raised, wondering why his jaw was clenched so tightly. He seemed to ponder over something, then finally opened his mouth. 

"There's a ramen place not too far from here," he said a bit slowly, looking you deliberately in the eyes. You blinked when he didn't elaborate anymore. Then you blinked again. 

"You wanna grab a late lunch there or something?" Now both your eyebrows were raised. You weren't against getting food with him or anything; it would do both you and him some good to get to know each other better, after all. But you had to admit it was rather abrupt. He gave you an expectant look.

"Obviously.” Fukui rolled his eyes, his piercing glinting in the sunlight and blinding you a bit. Then, as though to persuade you even further (not that you needed the incentive) he said, "I'll pay." 

"Well, if you want me to come so badly," you hummed out with a teasing smile on your face, letting yourself stand upright with your crutches tucked carefully under your arms. 

"Shut up before I change my goddamn mind," was his only irritated response, eliciting a small chuckle from you. 

"Okay, okay, give me a second let me grab my wheelchair," you snickered, hopping a bit to turn yourself before making your way to your room. Although you were more than capable of using your crutches to go to the ramen place, you still felt pretty weak-limbed. The wheelchair was better for long-distance travels, where you would likely get tired easily. Besides.... Parts of you still felt this deep sort of exhaustion in your bones that didn't seem to go away no matter how much you rested. It was a terrible annoyance. 

"Need something, dear?" your mother asked as you entered your room. Your parents were hovering around the baby's crib, your father holding said baby in his arms as he fed her the bottle your mother had prepared. You crutched your way to your wheelchair positioned near the edge of your bed. 

"Fukui wants to grab lunch at that Naruto Ramen place a few blocks away," you told them as you eased yourself onto the padded seat. You tucked your crutches against the wall your bed was positioned against. 

"Oooh, exciting!" your mother clapped her hands together, exchanging looks with your father.  

"Do you need some money...?" your father finally spoke up, watching as you settled yourself on the wheelchair and prepared to roll back out. Before you did, however, you rolled yourself over to your vanity and applied some deodorant and perfume; no need to smell like perspiration out in public. 

"Nah, he's covering. See you!" You made sure to grab your sunglasses and a hat, then left the room before they could reply or give each other one of those annoying looks of theirs. You swiftly rolled back to the front door, seeing Fukui still waiting outside, his foot tapping the ground impatiently. You slipped on the glasses and hat, hoping it would conceal yourself while you were out in public. The paparazzi were surely still prowling around, looking for a chance to pounce (if they even knew where you were, that is). You didn't want to take any chances. 

"Okay, let's go!" You gave him another smile as you stuffed your keys in your pocket from their place on the wall. You could feel him eyeing up your additional accessories, but he chose not to comment upon them. You rolled outside and turned in your chair to reach over to tug the brown door closed, but Fukui beat you to it. The door clicked shut and you gave him a small smile as a thanks before you started to wheel yourself down the paved path to the street.

There was no attempt at conversation as you made your way to the small restaurant. A comfortable sort of silence settled around you, interrupted occasionally by the soft susurration of the wind, or gentle rustling of the leaves layering the trees' canopies above them. Your eyes glanced around at your surroundings, gaze lingering on the people passing by, or the different stores that soon surrounded you. It felt nice to be outside, soaking up the warm caresses of the sun. It felt like you hadn't had the chance to do so in forever.

Within moments, you had arrived at the restaurant. There were chairs and tables set up outside for customers to enjoy the nice weather. A blood-tangerine and golden encrusted sign at the front of the restaurant read Naruto Ramen, the smell of steamed noodles, chicken, and a plethora of seasonings you didn't have the capabilities of identifying lingering through the open doorway. 

"Let's eat outside," you said eagerly as you craned your head upwards to peer up at his face. He had mostly hovered next to you during your trek to the restaurant. He grunted out his compliance and you pushed yourself up to a two-person table, Fukui shifting one of the chairs aside to make room for your own. 

"Menus," he grunted as he dropped his bag onto the chair across from you and stalked into the restaurant. You watched him go before turning around to breathe in the fresh air of an oncoming summer. He'd picked a table that would allow you to easily people-watch. You rested your elbow on the table, propping your head up with the smooth palm of your hand. Apart from yourself, there wasn't anyone else sitting outside the small restaurant, allowing for some modicum of privacy. Today must have just been a slow day. 

When Fukui returned, he plopped two black-covered menus down on the table and practically fell backwards onto his chair. You watched him with a faint smile as he picked one of the menus and opened it to flick through the cream-colored pages. 

"Y’ever been here before?" he asked, his stormy eyes glancing up from the menu momentarily to look at you, before darting back down to the choices displayed before him. 

"Just a few times with my parents," you hummed out, picking up your own menu to browse through its contents. There were a lot of choices available for the ramen bowls, but there was also a sushi appetizer section, followed by soft drinks and other beverages. They were all pretty decently priced, so you didn't feel all too guilty at making him pay for both your meals. You took note of the number of pepper symbols next to each dish, signifying the spice level. While spicy foods were certainly good in their own right, you didn't really like ones that were at very extreme levels. 

Fukui gave a noncommittal grunt at your words. You spent a few more moments looking over the menus in a comfortable silence before a waitress came over to take your orders. 

"I'll have the Miso Ramen and water, please," you told the blue-haired girl, who nodded and jotted it down in her small notepad. You both looked at Fukui expectantly. 

"Volcano Naruto Ramen and water," he said bluntly, closing his menu and holding it up for the girl to take once she finished jotting down the order. The girl took both menus and gave you a curt bow, before scurrying off. You looked over at your trainer, leaning your elbow against the table once again. 

"Volcano, huh?" The corner of your lips curled upwards. You could vaguely recall the abundant number of peppers symbols next to the dish's name. "Didn't peg you as a guy who loved spice." 

"Well clearly you were fuckin' wrong." He rolled his eyes, leaning back against his chair with his arms crossed. You'd never really noticed before (that was a lie, you had noticed, but never really paid proper attention), but he had a multitude of scars that crawled up his arms. Some of them were faint, nonexistent even, while others still looked pretty new and rough. You wondered if it would be rude to ask about them, then dismissed the idea—you didn't think you were that close to share scar stories, anyways. 

"So," you pondered upon a few questions to ask him as you waited, "how long have you been a trainer?" 

He let out a hum, his gaze focused out on the street. "Few years," he said vaguely, watching a car speed by, its windows glinting in the sunlight. 

"You must've gotten to know a lot of pros, huh?" You were starting to grasp at thin air here to keep the conversation flowing—at least until the food arrived. "What's it like seeing them outside of work?" 

Fukui's jaw tensed a bit, his gaze swiveling around to lock onto yours. It wasn't fair, you suddenly thought, that his eyes were so striking. They felt like they could pierce right through you, uncover your every secret. Fukui shrugged his shoulders, his hair ruffling about with the wind that curled around them. "Some of them are actually goddamn annoying." 

"Really?" You let out a laugh, thinking back to your texts between Kirishima and Kaminari. You'd decided to finally message them a bit back, and once they'd both gotten your number, they'd made a group chat between the three of you. "I've encountered some heroes here and there after I was, uh, rescued. Maybe you trained them."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly interested in what you had to say. You didn't blame him, really. There was still quite a bit of mystery around your rescue and recovery—to the public, that is. "Who?"

"Like Deku and Uravity, I believe," you answered aloofly, thinking back to the research you had done on them and their rankings on the Hero Billboard Chart. You scratched your cheek. "Red Riot, uhhh, Chargebolt. Them." You didn't dare elaborate further, not wanting to risk letting out any information regarding your memory loss. You hoped you didn't sound as clueless as you felt. 

His eyes narrowed, but before he could open his mouth to reply, the waitress reappeared with a tray in her hands. Two bowls were set down in front of you, along with drinks and chopsticks. You thanked her (well, Fukui more or less just grunted), and looked at your meal as she left you to eat. 

An enticing aroma wafted from your Miso Ramen, the noodles saturated with a dark brown broth as a few vegetables floated around like seaweed in an ocean. Steam still rose up from the bowl, dissipating into the air and leaving a pleasant smell that made your stomach rumble. You pried apart your chopsticks and poked at the egg that drifted lazily in your bowl, before glancing up to look at Fukui's meal. 

Immediately, you got hit with the scent of overwhelming spice that emanated from his bowl. You could practically feel the heat that radiated from the ramen, feel it burn your nostrils as you took in a breath of air. Your eyebrows raised at the angry-looking maroon broth that his noodles soaked in, a couple pieces of chicken and an egg practically drowning under the abundant amount of spice that went into the meal. Now you know why it was called 'Volcano'.

"What the hell? How can you eat something like that?" You wrinkled your nose as you breathed through your mouth. You could practically taste the spiciness lingering on your tongue like sparks from a flame. Sure it looked good, but that amount of pepper would probably just ruin all the other flavors. 

Your trainer gave you a crooked grin, his chopsticks in his hand as he lifted up some of the noodles speckled with pepper flakes. "My taste buds aren't weak as shit, that's—"

[ "I understand how peppers add flavor to food," you began with steadily narrowing eyes, watching the man across from you stir in more pepper flakes to his already spicy ramen. "But to the extent that you're doing? That's just asking for a bad time on the toilet."

He let out a scoff, setting down the container to the side once he had supposedly added enough. His blurry face raised slightly to look straight at you as you eyed his meal with slight disgust. "Not when you have a strong ass digestive system, like me. Don't y’like spice, anyways?" 

"Oh I do like spice.” You waved a hand in dismissal as you poked at your own bowl of ramen in front of you. "Just not like you. How do you even manage to eat all of that? I can practically feel the heat from all the way over here."

He let out a raspy chuckle, twirling his chopsticks around his bowl with calloused hands. "'Cuz my taste buds aren't weak as shit!" 

With that, he shoved a mouthful of noodles in his mouth, and you rolled your eyes at his exuberant gesture. He was obviously trying to show how much pain tolerance he had when it came to peppers. Not that you particularly cared how much of a sadist he was. "It's suicidal, what you're doing."

The blurry man made a sound before thickly swallowing his bite. He brandished his chopsticks at you, pointing at you almost threateningly. "Yeah? Well I bet y’can't even fuckin’ handle a single pepper." 

At that you glared at him, feeling the smug aura coming from his figure. You held out your own chopsticks, your gaze narrowed as you dared him to underestimate you again. "Give me that shit." ] 

—why." 

Click click click click click.

You blinked a few times, not realizing that you had drifted off midway through his sentence. A migraine was starting to rear its ugly head again, and you lifted a hand up to grasp at your temples. So caught up in your mental struggle, you failed to notice the look your trainer was giving you... especially since you hadn't jumped back at him for his mockery of your taste buds. 

"That's the second time you've done that.” His low voice snapped you out of your stupor, and you shook your head slightly before looking back up at him. You couldn't really decipher the expression on his face, but you had to say he looked a bit suspicious? Wary? It was hard to tell. 

"Huh? Done what?" you answered vaguely, straightening yourself up when you noticed your chopsticks were about to fall from your loose fingers. 

"Given me a blank ass look," he deadpanned, still eyeing you carefully. His hand holding his chopsticks lowered to rest upon the rim of his bowl. "Y’good?" 

"Yeah, 'm fine." You dismissed his question with a slight wave of your unoccupied hand. Your chopsticks swirled the noodles soaking in your bowl. "Just got a headache. It's nothing." 

Fukui eyed you some more, watching as you picked up a soaked fish cake to pop into your mouth. Thankfully, he dropped the topic, and focused on his own meal. It was quiet as you ate, neither of you finding the urge to fill the silence with conversation. Occasionally, the waitress would poke her head out from within the restaurant to check on you, but apart from that, you were left alone. Your migraine eventually faded away as you inhaled the warm steam of the ramen and drank the flavorful broth. It wasn't until you were trying to pick up the slippery egg in your bowl that Fukui spoke up again. 

"So," he started, leaning back against his chair after dropping his chopsticks in his now empty bowl. You spared him a glance, but still attempted to grasp the egg. "Got any favorite heroes?" 

A small chuckle left your lips once you finally managed to stab your chopstick into the damn piece of food. "Curious, are you?" He just shrugged. You popped the egg into your mouth and chewed as you thought about your response. "Well, I've always liked All Might, for obvious reasons. But I think Miruko is also pretty cool." 

Fukui let out a hum, picking up his water to take a sip. "What about current heroes? Top ten?" 

You paused for a moment, thinking about what to say. You knew, from your hours of online research, that Réalité knew a majority of the top ten—even top twenty—pro-heroes. You would have to word your response carefully. "That's like asking me which of them is my best friend.” You gave him a lopsided grin, hoping he wouldn't pry any further into your responses. He rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, you answered. "Well, in terms of hero-ing, I kinda like Uravity's style. Deku's pretty great too. They make a good team. What about you?" 

He stayed quiet for a moment, his fingers thrumming a beat on his crossed arms. His gaze shifted from the side to look directly at you. Even through your sunglasses, you could feel him practically piercing through your soul. "I liked All Might when I was a brat," he said offhandedly, "Dynamight, too." 

Click click click click click.

"Really?" You couldn't help the frown that darkened your gaze, your arms crossing over your chest haughtily. You were sick and tired of hearing all this crap about how good he was. You knew the truth; you knew he wasn't as good as everyone thought he was. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. You hated the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight. But you weren't going to tell Fukui that. A bundle of emotions began to swirl in your gut, apprehension and disgust forming putrid clouds of hate. "Him? Out of all heroes?" 

"Yeah." He leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at you. "What do you have against him, huh?" 

"He's a fucking menace in sheep's clothing," you dismissed his question, refusing to meet his hard gaze as you stared out onto the street. 

"He's a damn hero," Fukui stated, his fists clenching as he uncrossed his arms and rested them on the table. 

"He's not, but okay." You didn't want to talk about this anymore, your head was starting to hurt. You didn't know why your trainer was getting so defensive over him, but you didn't care. You didn't want to ruin the nice meal you’d been having. You side-eyed him. “I'm done talking about this."

He grit his teeth, but just as he opened his mouth, you heard another voice call out your name from behind you. 

"Hey! [Name]!"

You turned around in your seat to see a grinning Kirishima jogging up to your table. He was decked out in his hero outfit, his hand waving in the air before falling to his side once he stopped next to your table. Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “Kirishima? What're you doing here?" Then you paused before adding on, "And how did you know it was me??" You were still wearing sunglasses and a hat, after all. 

"Oh, well, I recognized your wheelchair and hat. Plus we've been here a few times and you always sit at this table," the redhead responded sheepishly. You blinked at the new information, not knowing what to say to that. Did it surprise you that you'd eaten out with Kirishima in your past? Not really, considering the fact you used to be close (supposedly), but you definitely wondered what else you must've done. "I'm just doing a patrol right now. I saw you, so I thought I'd say hi!" 

"Well, hey." You smiled at him, forgetting about the tense conversation you'd been having prior to his appearance. You saw him glance over to Fukui, who was glaring up at the red-haired man. 

"Oh wassup, uhhhh, Tatsuo?" Kirishima greeted your trainer with a salute. Fukui grunted out a greeting, and you found yourself looking back and forth between them with wide eyes.

"You guys know each other?" you asked, bewildered. Maybe Kirishima used to be trained by Fukui?

"Yeah, we're old friends," Kirishima told you, stepping over to the black-haired man to sling an arm around his shoulders. "Haven't seen him in ages!"

"Let go of me," Fukui grumbled, but made no move to shove the arm off his shoulder. You grinned slightly at his behavior. 

"Anyways!" Kirishima stood up straight and let go of your trainer. "Sorry if I interrupted anything. You guys on a date?" His eyebrows wiggled down at you and you snorted.

"We've known each other for less than a week, relax,” you rolled your eyes, "Besides—"

A ringtone interrupted you. 

Fukui pulled out his phone from his pocket, answering it with a blunt "what?" You exchanged glances with Kirishima, who shrugged and gave you a sharp-toothed smile.

"So, Denki and I were thinking about adding a few more people to the group chat," he told you quietly as he leaned down closer to your ear. While he knew that you had some sort of amnesia—you'd ended up telling him and Kaminari since it had been obvious you had forgotten them (plus you kind of already gave it away when you had met them that one time)—he didn't know the extent. "They're people you know, don't worry." 

"I mean..." you trailed off, glancing at Fukui to see him still engrossed in his phone conversation. You took a deep breath; you needed to start reaching out to others you apparently used to know. No more being so wary.... at least for now. "If you're sure, then go ahead."

"Great!" He gave you another shark-like grin just as Fukui hung up his phone and stood from his seat. You looked at him with a brow raised in question. 

"Gotta go," he said as he shifted through his wallet and slammed some money onto the table. You blinked at the abruptness, but weren’t surprised; he was a pretty busy guy, as was established at your first meeting. 

"Guess that's my cue to leave as well." Kirishima sighed wistfully as Fukui grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. The redhead turned to look at you. "You'll be fine, right?" 

"What am I, five?" You flapped your hand at him as though to shoo him off, rolling your eyes. With the amount of times you rolled your eyes today, it was a wonder how they didn't get stuck there. "I'll be fine. Just text me later." 

"Got it!" He gave you a thumbs up. You exchanged farewells with the two men before they walked off, Kirishima continuing on his patrol in the same direction Fukui was going. 

You leaned back on your chair, picking up your drink to sip at it thoughtfully. You wondered why Kirishima was on patrol so far away from his agency. But as you thought about it some more, you realized you couldn't really deliberate too heavily upon it, for he was a hero who tended to roam around a lot. 

It was probably just a coincidence, you thought, as you waved over the waitress to pay for the meal. 

Just a coincidence. 

#i suck at endings ok sdfsddfssdf #literal clownery #that's what this is #im losing track of time #thought today was friday it's actually sunday sdfsdfsd #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fmnkb #reader insert #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugo x reader #jfc it's like 5 am #i am a mess #but what else is new

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [14] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader 

word count: 3.7k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part thirteen   part fifteen 

When you first entered through the front door, the immediate droning of the T.V. in the background greeted you. It was on a news channel, and though you couldn't see the screen itself from your position, you could still hear the descriptions of the recent villain attack that had occurred. It made you bite your lip, shuffling in place for a moment. Your hands dug themselves into your pockets, your right hand fiddling with the keys that clinked within them. Your parents hadn't yet noticed you had arrived, so caught up in the descriptions of the crime. You breathed in deeply before shakily limping your way to the living room. 

Upon entering the relative vicinity of your parents, you were allowed a few seconds to glance at the T.V.—where an interview was taking place between a reporter and one of the security guards you helped save—before your mother got up from her position on the couch, and rushed toward you. You braced herself for the lecture that was sure to follow. 

"Oh [Name]!" your mother gasped, pulling you in for a hug that had you wincing slightly. You patted your mother on the back a bit weakly, before being let go. The older woman had a concerned look on her face that only deepened upon seeing the still dirty state you were in. Hands cupped scratched up cheeks, turning your head side to side. "Oh, baby, look at you!" 

"I'm fine," you somehow managed to say over your mother's fretting. Your eyes glanced at your father, who was standing up a few feet away, the fact that he was holding Saki in his arms preventing him from giving you a hug. The look in his eyes, however, told you that he was less than pleased with what you had gotten into. 

"'Fine'? [Name] you look like crap," he said with a cold frown, his eyes lingering on the bruise that had blossomed on your neck, and the fresh bandages that adorned your arms and face. "You even cracked your cast! [Name], that is not fine." 

"Why didn't you just leave it to the professionals??" your mother cried out, letting go of you once she had finished looking you over. 

"I am a professional!" you replied in exasperation, waving your arms out slightly to emphasize your point. You knew that was the wrong thing to say based on how your parents' expressions darkened. You suppressed a shiver. 

"You were a professional until you got yourself kidnapped and injured beyond repair!" your mother snapped, poking her finger at your forehead. "And watch your attitude, Missy!" 

"Mom, I'm twenty-five!" you groaned out, rubbing your fingers into your temples. Your father had disappeared in the direction of your room, presumably to lay Saki down in her crib. You only grit your teeth at the implications of your father joining in on the argument without a baby to restrict him. You were outnumbered. "I'm an adult; I can make my own decisions!" 

"Not when you've almost died!" 

" Well I'm still here, aren't I?" 

"Baby, that's not the point!" your mother threw up her hands in the air, seemingly fed up with the whole conversation. "You're covered in injuries! It's dangerous!" 

"But I saved people!" you nearly yelled out in all your frustration, desperate enough to let your mother see your perspective. Your father returned in time to see you gesticulate wildly to the T.V., where the interview was still being conducted in a low drone of noise. "I saved those people! They would've been greatly injured if it wasn't for me!" 

"[Name]...." Your father pinched the bridge of his nose momentarily, before grasping you by the hands and leading you to the couch. You sat down heavily on it, not noticing until that moment just how tired you were. Your muscles ached, and your ankle throbbed with even the slightest of movements. But there was no way you were going to submit to the pain right now; it would only prove your parents' point. "While I'm glad you were able to help people out, you still put yourself in a very risky situation. You're too weak to be diving into villain attacks without a proper plan. Look at what this one cost you." 

Your parents were standing before you, making you strain your neck to look up at them. In this position, you felt like a kid again, all small and subjected to the strict guidelines your parents set for you, their only child. And it frustrated you, because you were old enough to know what was right and wrong for yourself, yet they didn't seem to agree. It was the same thing, again and again. 

"That's why I need to get stronger." You looked down at your hands, flexing the fingers slightly. Flashes of your fight with the villain appeared before your eyes, making your jaw tense slightly. How you could barely stand, barely use your quirk against him, and barely manage to subdue him enough for help to arrive. Maybe if you were stronger.... You wouldn't have had to buy time. Maybe you could have actually defeated him. After all, if you had been the number eight hero, then you must have been powerful enough to take down one measly criminal on your own, right? "And that's not gonna happen if I'm stuck at home all day!"

"But you can't do so on your own, [Name]," your mother tried to convince you to drop the topic, but you were relentless. You wouldn't let them talk you down from your decisions. Not when they were so important. "You can hardly stand—"

"I can hardly stand because you won't let me walk!" you cut across your mother with little hesitation, shooting both your parents a harsh glare. The small winces they each made gave you an odd sense of satisfaction. They needed to realize how oppressive they were being. They couldn't shelter you forever. "If you're so worried about me hurting myself, then let me get a personal trainer! We have a workout room in the basement—" 

"[Name], if this is about returning to your previous life—" your father started up and you felt your jaw tense. Oh no, you were not having this conversation right now. 

"So what if it is?" you shot back, furrowing your brows with the slight agitation you felt building up. "I'm a grown woman, I wanna be able to help people—" 

"There are other ways to help people than being a hero!" Your mother bent down and gripped your shoulders, looking you dead in the eyes with an expression you couldn't quite place. Worry, maybe. "You don't have to constantly put yourself in dang—" 

"But I want to! You know I do! I've always wanted to do this career, ever since—" You bit your lip, and switched gears, letting out a long exhale. Your hands raised to grip your mother's wrists and tug them from your shoulders. Similarly colored eyes clashed together with a flurry of different emotions before a pair softened. "But... I'll think about it..." you murmured gently, averting your eyes to the side. Maybe saying that would get them off your back for now. "I still need a trainer though. Gotta start some sort of physical therapy." 

"[Name]..." Your mother frowned slightly, eyes flitting over your features as though trying to pick out what you were actually thinking. 

"Fine," your father finally sighed out, running a hand through his greying hair. He looked so much older at that moment. You wondered if anything had happened between you all during the six years that you had forgotten. "We'll ask around for a reliable trainer. But no overexerting yourself, you hear?" 

You perked up slightly, giving a nod as you let go of your mother's hands, which she had still been holding on top of her lap. Well, at least you made some sort of progress. Your mother got up and gave your beat up figure another glance over. 

"But first, let's get you to the hospital," she sighed out in defeat.  

---

It'd been a few days since you had gotten into the little.... disagreement.... with your parents, and in that time, you finally went to the Police Station to do those tests they'd asked you to do. You didn't see Deku there. On one hand you felt bad for abruptly dismissing him that one time, but on the other hand... he was friends with—with him. How could you trust that? But if he was the number one hero, then didn’t that make him trustworthy? You were confused. All these conflicting thoughts weren't healthy for sure. You didn't know what to do, so you simply pushed it all to the back of your mind to deal with another time. 

The Police Station only confirmed that there was nothing wrong with your blood, and that a consistent use of the Quirk Nullification drug—as well as a lack of use of your quirk itself—caused it to weaken immensely. Paired with your memory troubles, it seemed like you would have a long way to go before you would return to your former glory. 

Well.... you supposed it could be worse. 

You could be dead. 

You brushed away the thought. 

Letting out a sigh, you flopped backwards onto your bed, nestling into the pillows. Your legs were stretched out in front of you, a bright white new cast attached to your foot. It mocked you in all its freshness and you huffed. It was a bit sad that you didn't really have anyone to sign it, but there was nothing you could do about it. You could draw on it yourself you suppose, but that was also a bit depressing. 

Most of your bandages were able to be removed from your torso and arms, though you still had a few lingering on your face, upper arm, and neck. Healing took forever; you were getting tired of applying and reapplying the stupid white bandages around your injuries. Whatever. You glanced to the side to eye the new wheelchair that rested near the edge of your bed, before turning to the crutches that were tucked behind your door, and finally landing on the unoccupied crib a few feet away. Each item only reminded you of all that you'd been through, and you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not. 

Grunting slightly, you reached out to the small nightstand near your bed, fingers gripping onto the new phone that rested on it. Finally, finally, your parents got you a phone. You were so grateful. Now you actually had something to do. Though, it was a shame that you didn't have all the data on your old phone anymore. You already checked the Cloud, but all the pictures on there were from your time in high school. You supposed you had probably made a new account. Problem was, you didn't really remember it. 

Clicking open your phone, you decided to do some stalking. You really needed to find out more about those heroes you met not too long ago. Kirishima and Kaminari, was it? Yeah. You had already added their numbers into your phone, but you had yet to actually text them. Eventually you will. Once you found out more about them. And maybe more about Deku. And yourself. So many things, so little time. 

The first name you typed into Google was Kirishima's. Huh, he's the number six hero. You would say it was a surprise, but going through the massive number of news reports covering all the crimes he'd helped stop proved that it really wasn't. He was one of the more exuberant pro-heroes, doing many talk shows and interviews to become more involved in society. It was nice to read about all he'd done after graduating from U.A. Impressive. He'd certainly made a name for himself, despite his terrifying-looking quirk. 

You clicked a link to his Instagram profile. Yeah, he posted a lot of pictures of him working out, posing, or interacting with fans. It was cute. You scrolled through more of his pictures. Was.... was that you in some of them?? Your eyes narrowed at a picture of the both of you posing in front of the All Might tribute statue. Were you... actually friends? You felt the beginnings of guilt and a deep sort of sorrow starting to swirl in your chest. This was strange. It was strange looking at memories that weren't yours, but at the same time... were? 

Strange.

There were more pictures of him with you and Kaminari, some separate, some together. There was also a pretty hero whose skin was entirely pink, and a man with rather large elbows in some of them. Wow, Kirishima was quite the social butterfly. He really liked posting pictures with his friends, it seemed. 

Your heart hurt and you didn't know why. 

You scrolled some more until you got to a vlog of him at the gym. Tapping on it to turn on the sound, you watched with half-lidded eyes. 

"'Sup guys, Red Riot here at the gym, again!" His brightly lit face beamed at the camera, sharp teeth nearly shining in the light. You hadn't noticed it before, but he had a small scar above his right eye. His red hair was down instead of stuck upright and his face had a few whiskers here and there. "Gonna demonstrate a few weightlifting exercises in a sec'. I've actually got a spotter for once! Say 'hi' to my best bro—" 

The camera suddenly flipped around to show— to show— to show him. Your eyes narrowed. What the fuck was Kirishima doing hanging out with him?! The camera zoomed in on his figure, resting on one of the work benches. He had a towel around his shoulders, a black tank top and grey shorts adorning his figure. He was busy wrapping up his hands in bandages when he looked up to scowl at the camera, letting out a tch. 

"Shitty Hair I swear to god if you post that shit—"

"Chill! I'm just giving the fans what they want." 

"Don't you dar—" 

You scrolled down to the next post abruptly, your pupils shrinking at hearing his voice. Why did Kirishima.... You scrolled through more photos, noticing that the red-haired hero actually collaborated with him for a myriad of missions, as well as Kaminari, Deku, the pink woman, and the tape guy (a tagged post told you his hero name was Cellophane, and her hero name was Pinky). This made no sense. Why was Kirishima working with him?? He was a villain in disguise—he hurt you. He was going to—! You shook your head slightly, pressing a hand against your forehead. Your thoughts traveled a hundred miles a second, and your eyes closed in an effort to sort through them. 

If Kirishima knew him—and apparently the redhead also went to U.A., which meant he was a classmate—then was he to be trusted? Would he just end up hurting you? 

No, no, you thought, furrowing your eyebrows. He seemed so nice to you when you met him. And apparently you had been friends before all of this, if the pictures were anything to go by. 

But, you couldn't trust him. You just couldn't. He was bad news. You were certain of it. 

You shook your head and decided to move on from Kirishima. The broiling storm at the back of your mind was overflowing with emotions, thoughts, and confusion. You pushed it back and went through Kaminari's Instagram instead, the number fourteen hero. Similar to Kirishima, he seemed to interact a lot with his fans, particularly the women. Not that you were surprised. He actually participated in a major underground mission a few years ago. Pretty cool. You saw a few pictures of you on his profile as well. Hitoshi was also in some of them. This surprised you slightly. You really needed to pay a visit to him. 

You learned that you apparently were acquainted with Pinky and Cellophane as well, since you were all in a few videos together. It was still very strange to find out more about your missing time through some dumb posts on a social media account. It raised questions, sure, but it was nice to know that you were actually a pretty popular girl. 

Deku, you found out, actually had the name of Midoriya Izuku. When you Googled him, almost every link led to one of his numerous missions, interviews, talk shows, everything . He was really damn popular, which made sense since he was the number one hero. He did collaborations with all sorts of heroes from around the world. His life was really... full. Teeming with activity. And even through all of that, he somehow managed to pay visits to schools and hospitals. 

What a fucking angel. 

But you still found a few videos and articles about him intertwined in your search. Actually, there were a lot of videos with Midoriya, pro-hero Shouto, and him. It surprised you to find out that they were top three, but at the same time it didn't. It was an actual confirmation, in a way, from what people had been telling you. 

Though, you still felt a raging hurricane of conflicting emotions at the fact that he was the number two hero. He didn't deserve that position. You were sure. He hurt people, he hurt you, he hurt you he hurt you—

Click click click click click.

Fuck, okay. You took off your phone and rested it on your chest, before bringing your fingers up to your temples and rubbing them. You needed to sort through all of this information, or else your head was going to literally explode. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, opening your eyes to look up at your ceiling. 

So far, you knew that you'd apparently known, or been friends with Kirishima, Kaminari, Pinky, Cellophane, Uravity, and Midoriya, since you'd appeared in interviews and videos with them, as well as done missions together. There were a few other heroes too, but you didn't look them up yet since you didn't really know them—or their names. That, and you haven't really met them yet like the others. You'd do it later when you finally Googled yourself. 

You also knew that all of those heroes knew him. They all went to U.A. together; they were even in the same class. Could you trust them? The question was at the forefront of your mind. 

You needed to stop judging them based on their single connection to him. You sighed, pursing your lips. Even though they know him, are friends with him, and collaborate with him, that doesn't necessarily make them bad, does it? Maybe they don't know he's actually a villain? Maybe they don't know that he hurt you, and has the capacity to hurt hurt hurt hurt—

No, but.... maybe they do know and support it? 

No! They're your 'friends'; you've seen the pictures, watched the videos. They seemed genuine. 

But if they knew him, and for so long too, then maybe they would choose him over you at any moment. 

But, you were friends....

But could you even trust their intentions now? Maybe things changed that they didn't make clear to the public? 

But they were heroes; deceitfulness would go against what they strove for. 

But even heroes could be corrupt. He was a hero. He was corrupt. 

Click click click click click. 

You groaned and rolled over in bed, pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes. It felt like your mind was playing a very terrifying game of Tug-of-War, wrestling with you in a way that made your metaphorical arms nearly rip off. The rational part of your mind was screaming at you to just look him up, and see what he's done. But the part of your mind that was so terrified, so frightened at the prospect of uncovering something... dangerous... that you just couldn't do it. You couldn't. You wouldn't.

Not yet anyways. 

Maybe you should give them a chance. Just to see what they would do with you. Yeah. Like spying. Only, on people you apparently used to be friends with. It could give you an incentive to either 1) stop talking to them, or 2) accept them into your life. They could definitely help fill in the gaps in your mind. You just had to be careful to make sure they wouldn't lie about anything. You liked to think you were a good judge of character, in any case. It'll be fine. 

You'll be fine.

You didn't know how long you lay there, but you finally grabbed your phone again and looked yourself up, wondering what information there was on you on the Internet. 

The first thing that popped up was the news of your return and articles detailing your kidnap. You cringed at the videos of you being wheeled into the hospital after being found. You looked like you'd seen better days. There were videos speculating what had happened to you during those six months, videos of heroes doing their best to try to find you, videos of tributes to you as though you were already dead. It was overwhelming. All those heroes—especially the ones you recently found out you had been close to—trying to search for you to bring you home. You couldn't believe there were so many people out there supporting you.

Of course, there were also some who couldn't believe you had allowed yourself to get kidnapped like that. You, the number eight hero. They called you weak. They made conspiracy theories involving your kidnapping and your supposed 'break' that you went on just before it, where you were said to be doing some other hero work. You sighed; they couldn't all be supporters, you supposed. 

You were a strong hero, participating in numerous missions to take down drug rings and high-level villains who still followed in All For One's ideals. You did collaborations with many heroes in the top twenty, almost all of which you didn't recognize. You were passionate. Confident. You looked ready to fight, ready to defend, and ready to protect. 

You didn't recognize yourself. 

You couldn't believe that was you. Were you really that powerful-looking? It didn't seem like it. 

How the hell were you going to get back to that level? There was no way. 

Your heart sank and you wiped a few tears away from your eyes.

There was just no way. 

#i rmb this chapter was such a pain in the ass to write #like seriously #a pain #it's like #ridiculously conflicting #whatever man #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #reader insert #anime #bnha fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #fmnkb #bnha x reader #mha x reader #ughhh

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [13] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 6.0k+

mentions: pro hero au, second pov, fem reader, trigger warnings for choking, fire, near death experience

part twelve   part fourteen 

It'd been a few days since you had last been outside. Thankfully, your parents weren't home when you got back last time, but now that they were again, you were stuck in your room once more. You felt better physically, no longer getting as heavy dizzying spells every time you walked around the house without your wheelchair. But you were still confined to the thing because of your parents, who were still worried that you would collapse or trip over something. You didn't blame them. The first time you tried walking around the house without your wheelchair, you tripped over literally nothing and banged your knees against the floor. Shit hurt. The cast that was still around your foot didn't help either.

Currently, you were lounging around in the living room, idly watching some T.V. as your parents bustled around the house, preparing to go out again. They needed to take Saki to the doctor for a checkup. You were getting a bit antsy sitting there and waiting for them to leave, but patience was one of your many virtues, thankfully. 

"Okay, there's a sandwich in the fridge if you get hungry," your mother said as she came bustling into the living room, rummaging around in her purse. "If you go out, there are spare keys around here somewhere. Don't stray too far." Of course you knew that, seeing that you’d left the house before, but you weren't going to say it. Especially when your parents were being lenient and not as overbearing as they were when you first got home. 

"Got it." You gave a thumbs up, fiddling around with the remote in your hand. You glanced up now and then to watch your parents shuffle out the door, a familiar bundle of pink blankets nestled in your father's arms, before all was silent once again. You let out a breath of air you didn't realize you'd been holding in, and heaved yourself off of the couch and onto your wheelchair that had been resting nearby. 

Within minutes, you'd grabbed your keys, sunglasses, some money, and the sandwich from the fridge, eventually rolling out the door and onto the street. Your mother's instructions to not stray too far would have to be ignored, for you steered yourself to the nearest train station without a single drop of worry. It would be fine. You had all day. You just hoped you wouldn't run into any unwanted visitors. At least you had your sunglasses to disguise yourself—if only partially. 

The trip to your destination was… strange, to say the least. It was the first time you'd been on public transportation in a while after getting back to civilization. It was certainly weird to be in a wheelchair, and having to look up at everything all the time. Not to mention the disability ramps you now had to use. You weren't used to the stares of the people around you, their eyes lingering on your face before shifting to the cast around your foot. It made you uncomfortable.

Though, the ride itself wasn't all that bad. You breathed in the familiar air of Japan, watching out the window of your train to look at the passing scenery. Thankfully, at this time of day, it wasn't too crowded, so you weren't squished in a train cart. There were a few others scattered around, idly scrolling on their phones, or gazing out the windows in a manner similar to yourself. You took the limited time in solitude to ponder over your situation. Lately, you'd been getting more wrapped up in the cacophony of thoughts that swirled dangerously around in your head. It wasn't a good thing, but you couldn't help yourself.

It seemed like it had been just a few months since you'd last traveled on this particular route. You knew that wasn't the case, however. At least, in your current mindset. You weren't completely sure anymore. For some reason, you only vaguely remembered some of the landscape markers that came with the journey. It was slightly frustrating. But you could manage, anyway. Though, if you were to get lost, you would be utterly screwed. You still didn't have a phone and you weren't entirely sure when your parents were going to take you out to buy a new one. You supposed they would when they had time. After all, it's not easy to juggle work with a daughter who's in a rather.... complicated predicament. 

A sigh escaped your lips as your mind drifted back to the conversation you had not too long ago with a certain detective. You still had yet to go to the Police Station to get tested. You were rather reluctant, but you knew it had to be done. You could go tomorrow; you already had plans for today. Your father would probably be willing to drop you off, especially since this concerned an ongoing investigation that you were a key part of. You just hoped whatever they got from you would be useful. You hated sitting around all day, doing nothing to help protect Japan.

The train soon rumbled to your stop, and you found yourself wheeling out of it and onto the familiar station. Not too many people swarmed around, so you were easily able to navigate out and onto the street, which was slightly more crowded. You used your hand to brush your hair over your face to shield it, adjusting the sunglasses over your eyes so that they were completely covering them. People were walking amicably about, chatting about one thing or the other in a manner that almost seemed serene to you. A few gazes locked onto your form as you rolled in the direction of a tall apartment building at the end of the street you were on. But luckily, they moved on, and you found yourself exhaling a sigh of relief that you hadn't been approached by the paparazzi with all the times you had ventured outside. Maybe… you weren't as much of a prevalent hero as you thought you had been? That, or no one truly recognized you. Sunglasses really did miracles. 

Glancing around, you entered through the apartment building's disability door, waiting patiently for the automatic door to swing open. The lobby of the building was quite empty, a burgundy-colored carpet leading from the glass doors to the elevator. You glanced around nostalgically at the familiarity of your surroundings. Your mind was telling you that it had been almost two months since you had last been in this place. But you knew it had probably been more. You'd seen on the news that apparently you had been kidnapped a little over half a year ago, which disturbed you since you only remembered the last month of your captivity. 

It made you wonder what had happened in those first five months. 

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you rolled over to the lobby man's desk, a small smile growing on your lips at the familiar old figure who sat behind it, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. You cleared your throat as you came to rest in front of him, pushing your hair and sunglasses out of the way. He looked up, his brown eyes widening as he got a clear look at who came to visit. 

"Miss [Surname]!" the old man exclaimed out in his low voice, his thick grey mustache covering his mouth entirely. He stood up, decked out in his dark green work uniform, and rounded the desk to see you clearly. 

"Hello Hayate." You smiled warmly at him, finding it nice that he hadn't changed a single bit since the last time you'd seen him—whenever that had been. "How have you been?" 

"Well, it 'as been the same ol', same ol'." He chuckled lowly, wringing his wrinkled hands together. His eyes lingered on the bandages that still adorned your arms, and the cast that wrapped around your foot. "But you! How 'ave ye been, Miss? Last I heard, ye were kidnapped, an' recoverin' in the hospital!"

"I've been well," you responded, lifting a finger to scratch at your cheek. "Listen Hayate, is Hitoshi still here?" 

"Mister Shinsou?" The lobby man raised a grey eyebrow, one of his hands coming up to stroke at his chin. "Why, 'e moved not too long after ye did, I believe." 

At this, your eyebrows furrowed, taking in the new information with slight perplexity. "I moved out? Do you remember when?" 

"My mind ain't 'ow it used to be, Miss," he hummed out, closing his eyes momentarily to ponder over your question, even if he found it a bit strange. "But I think t'was two or three years ago." 

"Really?" Your eyes widened, stomach dropping with the possibility of a few things being filled in your missing memories. "Do you know where I went? Or where Hitoshi went?" 

"'fraid not," he sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "Mister Shinsou did mention somethin' 'bout 'is agency, though. Why all the questions, Miss? Are ye doin' okay?" 

"I'm fine, Hayate, don't worry about it." You waved off his question, mind racing at what seemed like a million miles per hour. "Thank you, I'll be going. It was nice seeing you again." 

The old man smiled a warm smile at you, offering to push you out the door, which you politely refused. You wheeled yourself out, pondering upon the new information you received as you rolled down the street, not aiming for a particular destination at the moment.

Apparently, you had moved out of your shared apartment with Hitoshi a few years ago. You didn't know why, but it seemed like you would have to look around for more answers. Hitoshi most likely moved into his agency, just based on what Hayate had heard. It was definitely a possibility. He had been talking about doing so while you were both rooming together. You should pay him a visit. Though, it was strange that you hadn't heard from him yet, even after being released from the hospital. 

You didn't blame him. Most of your friends probably didn't know where you were staying anyways, especially since your parents were being so private, what with the paparazzi roaming around for a juicy story and such. And again… you didn't exactly have a phone for them to contact you through. You definitely should look up his agency. Just imagining him as a hero was bizarre. It seemed like yesterday you were mere sidekicks, struggling to make an imprint on the world. 

Speaking of agencies.... if you really were a pro-hero, as had been expressed to you multiple times, then you must’ve had an agency as well, right? 

The thought only made your heart sink. You couldn’t believe you had let such a thing slip from your mind. A whole agency, running under you? It was crazy to think about! They must've been in such a panic when you had gotten kidnapped.... They probably still were, since you hadn't returned yet, much less contacted them. Damn it all. Add that to the list of things you had to do. 

You sighed, coming to a stop near a café. Your arms ached from continuously wheeling yourself down the street. You hadn't even bothered to put your sunglasses back on, but at this point you didn't care. You had so many things to deal with. You needed to make a list of sorts, or else you'd go crazy with the disorganization. Your fingers rested against your temples, where you tried to get rid of the oncoming headache. 

This whole… situation was just immensely difficult to deal with. You could feel yourself unraveling at the seams with each new obstacle that shoved its way onto your path of recovery. It was hard, so, so hard. There was nothing available to help you. No one available. You felt stuck, falling through the sky endlessly with nothing to latch onto. You needed help; you wanted help. But you didn't know who to trust, or who to ask. After all, there's no telling how many enemies you had made exactly, especially while you were a pro-hero. 

Licking your chapped lips, you looked around, finally taking in your surroundings as a sort of distraction from the hurricane happening in your head. It was a rather nice day. A few cotton candy puffs of clouds soared leisurely in the teal-colored sky, a light wind accompanying them. People wandered around you, a sort of tranquility that lingered in the atmosphere making your shoulders relax slightly. You didn't see many heroes out on patrol. You really needed to sit down and do research on everything that had happened in the last six years. Maybe it could help you. Though, you didn't have a laptop either. You wondered where it went. 

Rolling your head, you prepared to turn back to the train station with the intent of going home, when a sudden BOOOOOOOM resonated a few blocks away from you. A gust of hot air rushed past your head, a few tiny particles of dirt hitting against your face. You covered your face with your arms until the wind stopped, before peering through them to look around wildly at what had happened, your ears ringing slightly. 

A few shouts and screams came from somewhere in front of you, a bunch of people running on the road. They rushed by you, not even bothering to cast a glance at you in their panic. You turned around, eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a plume of black smoke that rose into the sky, which suddenly seemed much, much darker. Tinted with a red that reminded you eerily of blood. A foreboding feeling settled itself in your chest as you watched the smoke curl around the surrounding area, people screaming out for help. Help, a hero, anyone! Save us, please!

You bit your lip, glancing down at your body that still sat in the damned wheelchair, before darting back upward at the smoke, hearing more and more cries for help. Where were the heroes?? The police? Was there no one here? Your teeth grit and you tensed up, pushing down your headache so you could think. Think, damn it! Your eyes scrunched shut as you tuned out all the noise that seemed hazy to you. Your bottom lip trembled.

Ah, screw it. 

With a new sense of renowned vigor, you wheeled yourself in the direction of the smoke, pushing past all the bodies that scrambled away from the site of attack. The closer you got, the hotter it seemed to get, until you came into an area where wisps of fire curled around in the air. You coughed harshly, eyes watering at the black ash and dust that floated around everywhere. You brought up your arm to cover the lower half of your face, squinting around at the building the explosion stemmed from. 

It seemed to have been a bank, the familiar logo burning with a strange white fire. Your eyebrows furrowed. Some lowly villain must have been attempting to rob it, but got out of hand. They seemed to have some sort of fire quirk. You could see a few bodies laying around on the ground; a few of them had on security uniforms. With alarms going off in your head, you rolled yourself over to the nearest one, bending over to press your fingers against hot flesh in search of a pulse. 

It was faint, but it was there. 

So the villain wasn't aiming to kill, but rather weaken. You gulped down whatever saliva remained in your throat, eyes still watering from the smoke. There didn't seem to be any civilians remaining in the area. You couldn't possibly manage to carry all the bodies out to safety; you'd have to leave that up to the heroes that would eventually arrive. But you could go after the villain, maybe stall them long enough for arrest. Yeah, you could do this. 

You started to roll yourself in the direction of all the fire that started to spread along the streets. You needed to stay low; hopefully you could get in a sneak attack. There was a distant roar that kept getting louder and louder as you followed the path of destruction. Eventually, as you rounded a corner, the smoke cleared up and you found yourself looking at the back of a tall, buff figure who roared hoarsely at the few remaining security guards that were attempting to subdue him. 

The villain was obviously very strong-looking, dark green scales littering his arms, neck and face. He was decked out in all black clothing, a thick bag slung over his shoulder probably holding money inside. He would occasionally open his mouth to breathe out a type of white fire at the guards, who scattered to avoid it. You sucked in your breath when you caught a glimpse of the villain's slitted, bright green eyes. He hadn't noticed you yet. You had to do something fast, or those poor security guards would be toast. Literally. 

"Hey ugly!" you shouted before you could properly formulate a plan, and just as the villain started to turn toward you, you lifted your hands up and shot out your purple aura at him. The aura seemed to take the form of hands, wrapping around his figure to hold him still as you pushed him back against a wall. A sweat broke out on your forehead at the strength you needed to exert to keep him still. The security guards all turned toward you, their eyes wide, and recognition gleaming in their eyes. 

"Go! Run!" you shouted at them, grunting a little when you felt the villain start to strain against you. "I got this! Get help!" 

They seemed to hesitate, but did as told when the villain suddenly roared out. The guards bolted out of the area and you sighed in relief when they were finally out of harm's way. Though, your sigh suddenly turned into a stifled groan when you felt the villain finally break out of your hold, turning toward you with flashing eyes. You could feel a headache coming on; you were already tired and you barely did anything. At least there wasn't as much smoke around as before. You could still think and act clearly.

"Well, well, well," the villain hissed, settling into a defensive stance as he crept a little closer. His eyes seemed to glitter with amusement at the sight of your wheelchair-bound figure. Fuck, you were so screwed. You just needed to buy some time. "Pro-hero Réalité. What a sight to see. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?" You grinned in a way that you hoped didn't portray your fatigue. A bead of perspiration ran down the side of your face, and you gulped slightly the closer the villain came. 

"Just look at you." He chuckled in a manner that caused the hairs on the back of your neck to raise and you tensed up, getting yourself ready for the battle that would soon ensue. "This won't even be a proper fight." 

With that, he opened his mouth, a white glow beginning to form at the back of his throat, and you immediately dove off of your chair to the side. You rolled against the concrete, narrowly avoiding the stream of white fire that enveloped your chair. Your arms and legs banged against the ground, cuts and scrapes littering your figure once again. A small hiss came from your lips when you felt your head knock against something, a slight burn coming from your left shoulder. 

You didn't have time to rest however, and immediately pushed yourself up to stand, teetering slightly with the cast on your foot. A yelp came from your lips as you saw white fire heading in your direction, so you brought your hands up in front of you, your aura forming a shield around you to prevent the fire from coming into contact with your body. Flames licked at the exposed parts of your legs, and you cursed the fact that you didn't have enough energy to properly cover your front. Just when you thought you would run out of stamina, the flames stopped, and you peeked through your transparent shield to see the villain had closed his mouth, his chest moving up and down rather harshly. 

So he ran out of breath while using his quirk. You didn't know what to do with this information just yet, too occupied with the pain that flared up along your body. Your shield dissipated soon after, your energy too low to maintain it. You glanced at your wheelchair, which had been darkened until it was the color of obsidian and begun to crumble into ash. 

Shit. That had really been a close call. 

"That all you got?" you taunted him, trying to appear unfazed. Though, you knew it wouldn't work, especially since you were sure you looked like literal death at the moment. But you didn't care. 

"Heh," the villain chuckled, his chest still rising up and down rapidly. "No, but it appears that's all you've got." 

In a flash, he appeared before you, his large, unoccupied hand reaching down to grab you by the throat. You inhaled sharply as you were lifted into the air, and promptly slammed into the wall behind you. Stars danced across your vision, and you gasped for air, clawing at the hand that tightened around your neck, restricting your air supply. You attempted to raise one of your hands, hoping your aura would shoot out at him again, but it only spluttered weakly, making a sharp laugh come from the villain. 

"You think you are in the position to fight me?" he growled, his grip unrelenting. You kicked out, but it was useless. Everything was starting to get darker, and darker. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't breathe. "You, who couldn't even stop yourself from getting kidnapped?" 

You gasped and panted, a loud ringing sound echoing in your ears the longer you were deprived of oxygen. Was this it? Were you going to die here? Even after all you went through? You trembled and shook, fighting to keep awake, to keep yourself from passing out. Thumpthump, thumpthump, went your heartbeat, and you clawed at the hand that choked you, fighting—fighting. Just as everything seemed to fade away, disappearing just out of your reach, you felt yourself drop to the ground. Air flooded into your lungs, harsh coughs coming from your body as you crumpled on the floor. You had landed rather awkwardly on your cast, feeling another pain flare up in your ankle. 

Your entire body burned and ached, your vision not yet getting restored as you stayed on the ground, curled up into yourself. You could very distantly hear the roars of the villain in the background, though they were murky and distorted. You thought you could hear other voices as well, though you weren't sure. Maybe reinforcements had finally arrived. 

Tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to roll hotly down your cheeks. God, you were just so fucking useless, weren’t you? Frustration built up in your chest, spurred on by all the anger and resentment that had been building up at the back of your head, aimed toward yourself. You couldn't even handle one fucking villain. You were a burden, a failure. The villain was right. You weren't strong. Hell, you hadn't even been able to protect yourself! He was right. You were useless. 

You curled tighter to yourself, your hair a rat's nest as it shielded your face from view. Shielded the tears that threatened to spill over and drip onto the concrete. How the hell were you going to be a pro-hero at this rate? How did you even become one in the first place? The path of recovery was so, so, long. So difficult. You had no hope of returning to your former glory. There was no way. You were weak. You were—

"Hey, are you okay?" 

A gentle hand gripped onto your shoulder and you flinched slightly, since that was the one that had been burned. The person apologized hastily, switching their grip to your forearm. You felt yourself get pulled until you were sitting up, still leaning against the wall. You roughly rubbed at your eyes to get rid of the tears, your head bowed down so your face was aimed at your lap. You felt the person kneel down next to you, trying to peer at your expression to see if you were all right. 

"Are you— wh— [Name]???" 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, eyes darting to the man who was kneeling beside you. You didn't recognize him, but clearly, he knew you just from the way he’d addressed you. He had red, spiky hair, and gleaming crimson eyes that reminded you of— of him. But these eyes were much warmer, kinder, and made you feel slightly comforted and safe. A black sort of mask rested on the lower half of his face, his entire chest exposed. His shoulders had these circular... ridges? attached to them. You didn't know what they were, but they looked like guards. Black sleeves covered his arms, a red fabric tied around his waist with a belt that had a bunch of utility pockets attached to them. The belt itself had an 'R' on the front. Black pants and dark red boots completed his suit. 

"Hey, [Name], are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked in concern, looking you over and eyeing the various injuries along your body. 

"I-I'm fine. Do I—" You suddenly coughed harshly, your hand flying up to your throat to grip it. It throbbed under your touch, and you knew there would be a bruise. "Do I know you? I'm sorry." 

Something seemed to flash in his eyes, but before you could register it, they went back to being concerned and warm. "Well, you used to. The name's Red Riot, or Kirishima Eijirou." 

The name seemed slightly familiar to you, and you could vaguely feel something tingling at the back of your head. But you brushed it off, too tired to deal with everything. You instead elected to glance around, noticing that all the shouting had stopped. There were a few police cars around, along with a couple of ambulances and firetrucks. You had been so caught up in all your self-loathing that you hadn't heard them arrive. The villain was already restrained and being escorted to a vehicle, his mouth secured shut to prevent any fire from escaping. 

"Look, lemme take you to an ambulance," Kirishima said softly, tugging at your arm as he stood up. "Your injuries don't look too severe, so they can patch you up there." 

You only nodded numbly, struggling to hoist yourself onto your feet. You accepted assistance from the red hero rather reluctantly. It wasn't until you were both standing side by side that you realized just how fucking massive he was. He slung your arm around his shoulder, easily supporting most of your weight as you ambled over to the nearest ambulance for you to be treated. 

"Man, what're you even doing here? Aren't you supposed to be recovering?" Kirishima soon asked as you were settled onto one of the stretchers, the medics immediately tending to your wounds. They gave you an oxygen mask to help you breathe a bit easier, so you took in a few breaths before looking at him to respond. 

"Heard an explosion go off, so I decided to investigate since there weren't many heroes around," you grunted out lowly, feeling a needle get plunged into your arm. You needed to get used to the idea that you had probably known a lot of other heroes before you got amnesia. "Fat load of help that did, though..."

"What??" Kirishima exclaimed and you flinched a little at his loud voice; your headache was still there. He quieted down a little. "Don't be ridiculous! You held out long enough for us to get here! You even saved those guards over there!" He pointed behind him at the security guards you helped earlier, who were busy talking to some of the press. "That's some pretty manly stuff!" 

Your lips pursed as you glanced around again, looking at the officers who were helping those who had been injured, and the firefighters who were helping to put out the white flames that were still blazing about. Well, you guessed you did buy some time.... but in the end, you were still unable to help arrest the villain, or help out all the numerous others who had been injured. You were still.... useless. 

"I mean, I guess," you mumbled out tiredly, staring down at your ash-covered fingers. You could feel your hair sticking to your face. You felt grimy and disgusting—you really needed a shower. 

"Hey, don't think too much about it." The redhead frowned slightly upon seeing your distraught expression. "You helped, and that's what matters, right? Even if it wasn't a lot to you, it was to everyone else!" 

Your bottom lip trembled slightly, but you gave him a smile anyways, finding it rather endearing how upbeat and positive he was being. You made idle chat for a bit longer, talking about what you had been doing before the incident, as well as how your recovery time had been. He seemed really invested in how you were faring, asking questions about your health, your memory, and your time at the facility. He actually told you he was part of the rescue mission to get you back and apologized for a few things. This surprised you slightly, but you thought nothing about it. It was entirely possible that you had been good friends at some point, but it was also possible that he was just called in as a hero to help rescue you, and not as a friend. Though you were reluctant to answer all his inquiries, you couldn't say no, especially with how cheerful he was. 

"Oh! Why don't I take you home after all this?" he suddenly asked, slamming his fist into his open palm. His eyes seemed to glitter at the thought, like it was the greatest idea he's had thus far. 

"Oh, I don't know..." you trailed off sheepishly, rubbing your arm. You didn't want to keep the man from his work. He probably had a lot of things to do, especially as a pro-hero. The medics had already finished treating you, so you were alone with the redhead in the ambulance. Your injuries were thankfully not too severe, though you needed to go back to the hospital to get a new cast. Your current one was cracked, and it seemed like you had agitated your healing ankle to the point where it hurt to walk again. Damn. You also needed to replace your wheelchair, which was.... unsalvageable.  

"Nonsense!" He grinned at you with sharp teeth. "Lemme just grab my buddy and we can drive you home! It's no trouble at all!" 

You opened your mouth with the intent to protest, but before you could he had dashed off, most likely to look for his friend. You sighed in defeat, leaning back on the stretcher. You stared up at the I.V. line that was attached to your arm, closing your eyes momentarily. Kirishima just seemed so friendly and bright. But you had your doubts about him, wondering if you had really known him. It seemed so, what with the way he'd seemed so concerned about you—more so than for a stranger. It kind of made you feel uncomfortable.

Another sigh left your mouth. Man, you really just needed a nap. 

---

The "buddy” Kirishima had referred to turned out to be another pro-hero. You got the chance to meet him when the redhead helped you over to his burgundy car, as he had been standing there waiting for you. He was a bit shorter than the red hero, his fluffed up hair a bright yellow color with a black lightning stripe across the left side. He had a white gadget attached to his right ear, a similarly colored contraption on his right arm. His jacket was black with white lightning bolts on the sleeves, a white shirt under it. His pants were also colored and patterned in the same way, a utility belt holding it up. 

"The name's Chargebolt, or Kaminari Denki!" he introduced himself enthusiastically, though there was a glimmer in his eyes that told you he was already acquainted with you. "But you can call me anything you want~" He threw a wink at you, only to get punched in the shoulder by Kirishima, who muttered something to him that you couldn't hear. You paid no mind to their interaction, however, instead concerned with the fact that you had lost your sunglasses somewhere. Damn it.

"So where we heading?" Kaminari asked once you had all settled into the car. He was sitting in the passenger seat, his phone out with Google Maps on it. 

"My parents' house," you responded from the backseat, your hand running through your hair. You gave the address.

"You've been staying with your parents this entire time?" Kaminari asked in bewilderment as he turned around in his seat to look at you. "That must suck, especially since they hate heroes so mu— OW!" 

"Yeah, they do...." you said slowly, watching as Kirishima punched his friend on the arm, shooting him a look you couldn't quite see. You wondered how he knew that; you never mentioned anything of the sort to them. Maybe you really had known them before.

"Anyways!" Kirishima interrupted the silence that had settled over them. "We should get there in half an hour or so. If you wanna nap, go ahead. You look like you need it." 

"Hey, what about me? What if I wanna nap?" 

"Dude, you can't. You're holding the G.P.S., don't be such a baby." 

"Hey, I'll have you know I took out five villains today—" 

You ended up staring out the window in the duration of the trip, half-listening to the small banter the two heroes were engaged in. Your eyelids felt heavy, and with every bump of the car, some of your injuries flared up in protest. You really needed to sleep, but the prospect of having to deal with your parents kept you up. You hoped they hadn't checked the news lately.

It was not long until the car pulled up in front of your house. You got out by yourself, politely refusing the two heroes as they attempted to help you. You had to move very slowly to avoid irritating your ankle, but eventually you stood evenly on the sidewalk, looking at Kaminari's face that peered at you through the window. 

"Thanks for dropping me off." You gave them a sheepish smile, fiddling with your fingers. 

"It was no problem!" Kaminari winked at you. 

"Oh! We should give you our numbers in case you ever wanna get in touch, maybe catch up!" Kirishima slightly shouted, leaning forward so that he could see your face properly. 

"Uh, well, I really don't have a phone at the moment," you awkwardly trailed off, looking at the eyebrows that raised in your direction. 

"What? Really? How are you still alive?" Kaminari asked you, a strange look on his face as though he had a hard time understanding the fact you were phone-less. You only shrugged. 

"Take them anyways!" Kirishima replied, leaning over to hand you a piece of paper that you hadn't noticed he'd been scribbling on. On it were two numbers, properly labeled with their names. You took the paper and glanced down at it before stuffing it in your pocket. "Once you get a phone, text us!" 

"Okay." You saluted them and they exchanged their farewells before you watched them drive off, Kaminari's hand still waving at you until they turned on a street. 

You lowered your hand that had been raised in a wave, letting out a breath of air once you could see them no longer. They were definitely pretty easy to talk to. You liked them, but at the same time, you questioned their intentions. You needed to do some research. Maybe then you could get your priorities straight. You really wanted to reconnect with your friends: the ones you forgot and the ones you remembered. God knows how bored you were, waiting to recover. 

But for now, you winced as you turned around to face your house, seeing the lights on inside. You needed to deal with your parents. 

#i love kirishima #literally the best fucking boy #if you dont love me when i write bakugou #then you dont deserve me when i write kiri #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #fmnkb #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #x reader #fanfic #reader insert

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [12] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 3.6k+

mentions: second pov, pro hero au, fem reader

part eleven    part thirteen 

Recovery… was ridiculously boring.

You were confined to your home, forced to stay in bed as you tediously waited for your wounds to recover. You read through most of the books on your shelf, stared at the pictures attached to your wall, organized your closet, watched the television, and yet, you were bored out of your mind! You needed something to do. You needed to go outside and catch up on all you missed. Breathe in the fresh air of an ending spring and oncoming summer. But it was hard to do so with your parents hovering over your shoulder, making sure you didn't relapse or anything. It was aggravating. 

You sighed, shuffling around on your bed so that your legs were tossed over the side and your feet were touching the floor. You stared wistfully at the open window across from you, enjoying the slight breeze that wafted through. The sky was clear, from what you could see, and held the promise of a beautiful day. But here you were, trapped inside.

Your door clicked open, and you turned your head to look at your father, who poked his head through the opening. "Your mother and I are going shopping, want anything?" 

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. He nodded, glancing behind him for a moment before he turned back to look at you. "We'll be back in an hour or so. Take care of Saki." With that, he disappeared once more, leaving you in a contemplative silence. 

You flopped backward onto your bed, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your parents murmuring gently to each other down the hall, a door opening and closing soon after. You waited a bit more, enjoying the solitude, before sitting up once again, heaving yourself off of the bed with great effort. Your legs were still a little shaky and you stumbled around a bit to regain your footing, letting out a sigh once you managed to stand up straight, your summer dress swaying around lightly. Stretching your arms out, you looked around the room, careful of the cast that was still nestled on your foot. 

Turning yourself around, you hopped over to the wheelchair that was resting near your bed, settling down onto it a bit clumsily. Your head had started to swim, so you took a moment to let it simmer down before using your bandaged arms to roll yourself over to the white crib. You peered over the gate, smiling slightly when you caught the gaze of Saki, who babbled up at you with glee. 

"Hey baby," you cooed, reaching down a hand to rub the little girl's stomach. She was wrapped up in a purple blanket like a burrito, a similarly colored hat sitting on her head. Saki let out some more incoherent syllables, reaching up her arms that had somehow managed to escape from the blanket. "Wanna go for a walk?" 

You grinned as the child let out some more vowels, rolling yourself backward to head to the closet where all the child's things were. You opened the doors with little difficulty, rummaging around until you found a blue baby sling. Pulling it out, you shut the doors and rolled back to the crib, halting your movement temporarily to adjust the sling around your shoulder. You then tugged down the crib's gate, leaning forward to pick Saki up from the crib carefully and settling her into the sling. 

The child fit with little trouble, nestled comfortably in the cloth. You took a moment to fix it once more, ensuring that you would be able to roll yourself around in the wheelchair without jostling Saki around too much. With a nod of your head, you turned yourself around and rolled out your room, heading down the hall to the front door. You could already hear the birds chirping outside, sunlight brightening up the house and giving you a sense of tranquility. You grabbed the second set of keys that hung from a nail on a wall in the living room, then rolled over to open the front door. 

Immediately, a beam of light enveloped your figure, a warm breeze drifting by lazily. You heaved yourself out of the house, making sure to shut the door closed behind you and lock it with your keys. And so, you were off, using your arms to roll down the path that led to your house and onto the street. The change in scenery was certainly nice, and a smile decorated your face as you cruised your way down the sidewalk, listening to the sounds of conversation and vehicles driving by. It'd been a while since you had last been in the neighborhood. 

Saki let out a few loud noises, catching your attention as you looked down. The baby watched you with bright eyes, her open mouth and curling fingers asking where you were going. You only smiled down at her, murmuring a few words of comfort and ease as you turned your head forward to focus on your surroundings. You let the wind guide you on your journey, looking for no particular destination at the moment. You just wanted to enjoy the fresh air, the freedom, and the peace. You really needed it after being bed-bound for so long. 

You realized too late that you forgot your sunglasses at home, so there was really nothing preventing anyone from recognizing you (a concept that you still had difficulty dealing with). Though, it didn't seem to be too much of a problem. There weren't many people up and about, and if there were, they didn't trouble you. 

While rolling down the street, looking around lazily for anything that would capture your attention, you came across a park. Children laughing and screaming echoed around you, drawing a small smile from your lips. You always liked the little humans, with their sense of innocence and wonder. It was actually partially why you wanted to be a hero: to preserve that innocence. 

Rolling down the path that rested just outside the park's outskirts, you came to a stop near a bench that rested under a tree, the sound of rustling leaves dancing over your head. A sigh left your lips as you lifted your arms from the wheels, your muscles aching from the continuous effort you extorted to push yourself around. You stretched the tendons out for a moment, doing a few arm exercises as you watched the children fool around on the playground in the far distance to your right. To the left lay an open field, decorated with flowers of turquoise and lavender, of blood red and a rosy pink. It was peaceful. It was serene. You liked coming here when you were younger. It seemed like old habits never died. 

Saki let out a loud babble, making you look down to watch the child who waved her arms in the air. You smiled, your eyes scrunching up while you cooed to the baby and lifted her out of the sling by the underarms, standing her upright so that her tiny feet patted gently on your lap, and her round face beamed toward your own. 

"What's the matter baby?" you asked softly, grinning as Saki let out another sound and tried reaching her hands out to your face. "You wanna play too?" Another drawn out vowel was your only answer, and you smiled again before lifting the baby in the air, making sound effects as you went. 

It was strange. It was strange how not too long ago you had been trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of pain and torture, your resolve cracking under pressure and torment as you waited day after day for opportunity. It was strange how not too long ago you'd been on the run through a dark forest, heart palpitating wildly as you fought to protect a life that wasn't your own. It was strange how not too long ago you had been in the hospital, confined to your bed as the open window gave you a taste of a life that would eventually be in your grasp.

You were grateful, so, so grateful. Admittedly, you didn't expect to find yourself resting under a tree near a park you used to play in as a kid, gently playing around with a four month old baby as though nothing else mattered. But you'd take it any day, using it to ignore the foreboding thoughts that still lingered in the far recesses of your head, waiting, growing. Your only goal was to focus on the present, ignoring everything that had once been in favor of what will soon be. 

Setting Saki down so that she sat on your lap, you gently bounced her up and down, lifting your gaze up to look around and bask in the glimpses of sunlight that peaked through the overhead canopy of leaves. You'd have to pay attention to the time. Sure your parents wouldn't be entirely too mad that you decided to take a walk, but you'd rather get back home before they did to avoid a possible argument. You didn't need them nagging over you, berating you for leaving without saying anything or leaving a note. Whatever, you were an adult. You could handle yourself just fine. 

"Excuse me, Réalité?" 

Your head turned sharply to look at the two figures who stood at your side. You didn't hear them coming, too preoccupied with your wandering thoughts to notice. Their figures cast shadows across your form. Your eyes went from the unfamiliar face who spoke your hero name to the slightly more familiar one by his side. 

"My name is Tsukauchi Naomasa," the unfamiliar man spoke up, and you swore the more you looked at him, the more he began to seem familiar to you. He was certainly tall, decked out in a white business shirt, green tie, and dark slacks that had a police badge clipped to the waistband. His black hair was slightly mussed up with the wind, but other than that he was really formal-looking. "I'm a detective in the Police Force." Tsukauchi turned to gesture to the man next to him. "This is—" 

"Deku." You tilted your head, remembering the green male's hero name from your father's brief introduction at the hospital. He was wearing his hero suit again. "I remember you." 

"You do?" Deku looked a bit surprised, his head raising up slightly as he glanced quickly at the detective. 

"Yeah, you were at the hospital, right? Number one hero and all that," you responded slowly, shifting your weight around in your chair and making sure Saki was properly nestled on your lap. The baby let out a gurgle, drawing the attention of the two men, but before they could ask any questions, you continued with your own. "How's that like, by the way? Must be hard to follow up on All Might and Endeavor." 

"Well, uh, yeah." He seemed at a loss as to what to say. "It's definitely... difficult even attempting to live up to the legacy All Might left but I'm always up for a challenge and—" He forced himself to cut off his rambling before he veered too much off course, casting a glance at Tsukauchi who returned it. "—and well, what about you? How have you been?" 

You didn't mind the change in conversation, but it certainly told you they were here for more. You shrugged, keeping your gaze on Saki. "I've seen better days." Short and sweet. 

"Right, well, if you don't mind we would like to ask you a few questions about your… kidnapping," Tsukauchi suddenly took over and you grimaced slightly inside, not really wanting to answer them. But you knew it was necessary, especially since the black-haired man was part of the Police Force. "Though we were able to question you in the hospital, there are still questions we'd like to clarify and expand on." Huh? When had they questioned you in the hospital? "It would be a great help to the investigation if you complied now." Well, you supposed it was only a matter of time before they’d approached you again anyways. You only wondered why Deku was with the detective; surely he had better things to do? "Fire away," you sighed out, slumping your shoulders that you realized had been tensed up for no reason. 

"Do you know the names of the people who kidnapped you?" Tsukauchi jumped right into it, pulling out a small notepad and pencil from his back pocket and preparing to take notes. 

"No, not really," you answered, keeping your gaze on Saki. Your memories were fuzzy. "They kept me relatively isolated. The… person who was in charge of me told me his name was Doctor Shin, though. He constantly mentioned someone he called 'the boss.' I don't know too much about it, I'm afraid."  

"It's fine," Tsukauchi hummed out, jotting down a few things in his notepad. 

Deku rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "'In charge'? Can you elaborate on that?" 

"Well, he kind of..." you trailed off, unsure how to phrase what you wanted to say exactly. You bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should mention everything just to get it over with. A white, gloved hand came to rest on your shoulder in comfort, and you glanced at it, exhaling out softly and muttering a few things under your breath. 

"What? What was that?" Tsukauchi looked up from his notepad, raising a brow at the mumbles that came from your lips. 

"I said he… kind of monitored me, y'know." You exhaled slowly, feeling the hand remove itself from your shoulder. You cast the pro-hero an appreciative look, which he gave a small nod to. "Uh, he did some testing on me with drugs and the like." You didn't want to talk about.... well, everything else that the doctor did to you. Actually, the more you thought about it, the more you realized everything was a bit… foggy. You brushed it off.

"Drugs, huh," Tsukauchi muttered under his breath, tapping his chin with the eraser part of his pencil. He pointed the writing utensil at you. "The hospital gave us a syringe that was found in your pocket when you arrived there. It held a blue substance in it. Is that what you mean?" 

"Yeah, yeah actually." You sat up in your wheelchair, turning your body slightly to look at the two men properly. Saki let out a few coos, sucking on her fingers as she watched what was happening with bright eyes. "The facility was associated with quirk drugs. Mainly nullification and enhancement."

"And they consistently tested these drugs on you?" Tsukauchi asked, looking at you in a way that made you feel exposed.

You nodded in response and he hummed, continuing on to ask questions about what you knew about the drugs, your time in the facility, and what they had found out from the sneak attack. Apparently, quirk drugs had been becoming more of a problem in recent years, so it wasn't unusual that there were hidden, illegal facilities strewn about Japan. Tsukauchi wanted you to get some testing done, if possible, to ensure that there were no egregious effects inflicted on your body from all the drugs. You hesitantly agreed, wondering if your parents would be all right with it. They should. 

"So you managed to escape the facility," Tsukauchi reaffirmed, reading through all the notes he had taken. "Impressive, considering the circumstances. You escaped a few days before we conducted a raid on the place. Had you waited longer, we might've been able to rescue you." 

You gave him a lopsided smile, shrugging your shoulders. "I couldn't wait, y'know. Saw the chance and took it." He smiled slightly at that.

"Reports stated that you weren't alone when you were found," the black-haired male said in response. "There were mentions of a child?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, this child in fact." You raised Saki up into the air, who giggled down at you. "Poor kid was gonna be tested on as well. I had to take her with me, there was no fuckin' way I was gonna let the doctor stick needles in her." You lowered the baby back down to your lap, settling her in between your thighs, and wrapping your arms protectively around the child's little body. "Unfortunately, the hospital couldn't find her parents so we decided to adopt her. She’s certainly a cute thing, isn't she?" 

Tsukauchi merely smiled and nodded in agreement. You were too preoccupied with the baby to notice the looks he exchanged with Deku, who stared down at you in contemplation. For the most part of the questioning, Deku stayed somewhat silent, listening to your responses and adding in a few sentences here and there. It wasn't until Tsukauchi pocketed his notepad that he suddenly spoke up, catching your attention.

"[Name], can you tell me what happened at the hospital last week?" the freckled male asked, and you looked at him in confusion. "When Kacchan came to visit you," he added in response to your look. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. "'Kacchan'? Who...?" 

"Oh." Deku scratched his head, letting out a small chuckle. "Sorry, it's an old nickname. I meant Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki."

"Ba..." Your eyes narrowed, form tensing up in your chair. A shiver threatened to run down your spine at the mere mention of that man. You squinted up at the hero in suspicion, curling slightly into yourself in defense. "How do you know that man?" you practically hissed the question, eyes darting between the two as though they were going to attack you. 

Deku watched you in confusion that was quickly replaced with an expression you couldn't quite read. He glanced at his comrade before looking at you again, taking note of the way you suddenly tensed up at the mere mention of the ash-blond. "We've known each other since we were kids," he said slowly, but your expression only hardened even more. 

"He's the number two hero." Tsukauchi stepped into the conversation, feeling the need to help out. It was mildly alarming to hear of your reactions to the explosion hero. 

You faltered for a second, emotions and thoughts churning rapidly in your mind before you finally settled on one thought only. "Hero?" you spat out, furrowing your eyebrows. "Don't be ridiculous. He's dangerous. He hurts people. He's going to—" The words got caught up in your throat. 

"[Name], he went to U.A. with me," Deku said in bewilderment, walking in front of you to crouch down. If he took notice of your cut off sentence, he didn't acknowledge it. You were forced to stare into his turquoise eyes that practically shot arrows into your own. "We trained to be heroes together. He wouldn't hurt people, and he's not dangerous. You're safe." 

"You're lying," you grit out between your teeth, and for a moment you saw something shift within his eyes, but when you blinked, everything was as it'd always been. "Not every hero is inherently good. Look at Endeavor. When he was the number two hero, he was an asshole to everyone, even his own family." 

"Kacchan isn’t like that, [Name]." Deku exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he straightened himself up. "He isn't a bad person, and—" 

Click click click click click.

"Shut up!" you growled out, feeling your head throb with everything that had been going on. It didn't help that Saki had started to cry, having sensed your sudden aggression, and not liking the way you growled at the green-haired hero. You were confused, information swirling around your brain that ached with every word that floated around your head. It hurt, it hurt so much. You didn't want to deal with the confusion, the questions. So you pushed everything back until not an ounce remained, locking it up in a safe within your mind. 

You focused on soothing the wailing baby in your arms, shushing and rocking her around. You glanced up at the two men who hovered around you, unsure as to what to do. You held up a hand when Deku stepped forward to help out, huffing as you did so. "Sorry, but I have to go. Nice meeting you, I guess." 

And with that, you gently tucked the whimpering baby into your sling, and rolled yourself back in the direction of your house. You realized you were being rude to the men you left standing under the tree, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment. Your head hurt, your arms ached, and you didn't want to make Saki cry louder. This had been a terrible idea. You should've just stayed at home.

God, you scoffed to yourself. Who said Deku was telling the truth anyways? He said he'd been friends with— with him since they were kids, so maybe he was lying to you. Luring you into a false sense of security. So what if the alleged number two hero went to U.A.? He was also kidnapped as a teenager, right? He could've changed from then! Maybe he was a villain in disguise! He could just be pretending to be a hero to get to you! Yeah, that made sense. 

At this point, all you wanted to do was take a nap.

Meanwhile, Tsukauchi and Midoriya watched as you rolled away, the sounds of the baby crying fading into the distance. Nothing but the sounds of birds and children playing around remained, the wind picking up slightly. Midoriya sighed out, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I think she was brainwashed somehow. She definitely has the side effects." 

"Probably," Tsukauchi murmured, crossing his arms. "It will be difficult to contact her again. Hopefully she’ll go to the station to do the testing like we've asked." 

"Yeah..." Midoriya trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip, before he let out another sigh. "I really hope we didn't make things worse."

#skkssksk #i need to hurry up and catch yall up #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #fmnkb #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #x reader #fanfic #reader insert #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [11] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 3.4k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au, trigger warning for manipulation here but it’s lowkey 

part ten    part twelve 

Days had passed since the rather hectic confrontation, and you felt terrible physically and mentally. You were tired, your mind fuzzy from what had happened. All you remembered was seeing him, Dynamight. In your room. And you weren't sure why he was there, or how he had gotten there, but the thought was terrifying. He knew where you were. He knew what you looked like. And it was only a matter of time before he would come out to get you. 

But for now, you were confined to this stupid hospital bed. 

You had actually been relocated to a hospital in the city a few days ago, just like Doctor Akira had mentioned. Well, you didn't remember it, since you'd been unconscious, but you were glad you were in an area closer to home. The city life was welcoming, and after being trapped in the middle of nowhere for god knows how long, you felt somewhat of a comfort at hearing the bustling sounds. The people talking. The cars beeping. You didn't like being in quietude for long. It unnerved you.

It was actually at the new hospital that you were able to meet up with a doctor who properly diagnosed your amnesia. It was confirmed; you really did forget six years. When you thought about it, you couldn't really determine the cause for the memory loss, and neither could the doctors. Though there was a peculiar tidbit of information that the doctor was able to uncover from his diagnosis of you.

"Your amnesia seems to be quirk induced," he said, adjusting the purple-rimmed glasses on his face with a gloved hand. 

"What? How is that possible?" you replied in confusion, sitting up in your bed. You remembered Doctor Akira had mentioned something like that, though at the time it was just speculation. Right now, it was just you and this new doctor. Visiting hours hadn't started yet, and you'd been idly watching the news on the T.V. nestled on the wall in front of you. You missed your phone.

"Well," he began, flipping through his notes on his clipboard, "since your quirk is connected to your mind, it's possible that an... external stimuli led to distress that triggered it in a negative way and led to memory suppression. Mind-related quirks are complex, so it isn't too far-fetched." 

"I didn't know that could happen," you mused, scratching a bandage on your cheek. Then again, quirks in general were quite mysterious, so you shouldn't be too surprised. "So is there a way to get back my memories?" 

"Perhaps," the doctor hummed out, looking at you. "Though it would be entirely up to you." 

You supposed it was a good thing that it was possible for you to regain all the years you lost. But you had no idea how to do so. What were you to do anyways? If your quirk was suppressing your memories, you had no clue how to get it to stop. So for now, you were stuck at a standstill, left to do nothing but wait and see what would happen. 

Lingering traces of unusual trauma had also been detected, but when the doctor questioned you about it, you didn't say much. You didn't want to. It was best if you kept those particular memories locked up, far away within your mind. It wasn't brought up again and you preferred to keep it that way. They would only hinder your recovery.

The doctor also mentioned that you'd need to build back up your muscle and quirk strength if you wanted to get back in the hero field. Of course, you already knew that. The only problem was actually managing to stand on your two feet long enough to get some actual exercise in. And you knew your parents would be rather reluctant to let you go back anyways. Damn it.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against the bedhead, staring up at the ceiling. Sunlight filtered through the window to your right, warming your skin as it cast over your body. You weren't too sure how long it had been since you'd been admitted into the hospital, but hopefully you would be able to go the hell home soon. You were getting tired of sitting around in your room, doing nothing. You felt fine, albeit the occasional headache or your aching ankle. 

A sudden clicking sound made you look up, watching as the door to your room opened. In stepped your parents, your father holding a bag of what you hoped was food (hospital food wasn't terrible but it was bland). Your mother held a bundle of pink blankets in her arms, and you cocked an eyebrow, lifting yourself to sit up straight. Your parents pulled up two chairs from the wall and sat on your right side.

"Brought some food," your father announced, and you grinned, reaching your hands out to take the bag from his hands. 

"Thanks, I'm starving," you spoke as you dug into the bag and pulled out a container of rice and curry. You glanced up at your mother once you opened it, pointing to the bundle in her hands with your chopsticks. "What's that?" 

"This," your mother began, shifting her arms around so that you could see the tiny figure nestled snugly within them, "is the latest addition to our family." 

Your mouth dropped open as you peered at the small face that peacefully slept on, undisturbed. A small bandage was plastered to her little forehead, dark hair scattered messily on her head. "That's the baby I rescued! Wh— How—??"

"The hospital couldn't find her relatives, even with the police involved," your mother spoke softly, cradling the child in her arms as she sat back against her chair. "So we offered to adopt her, seeing that you helped rescue her and everything."

"I-I'm—" you stammered, unsure of how to take in the new information. You felt... confused, but also happy. Confused, because your parents never seemed like the type to adopt a child out of nowhere. But maybe you getting kidnapped opened their mindsets a little? You didn't know and you didn't want to dwell too heavily on it. Spontaneous decision making seemed to run in the family. You were still happy that the babe would have a family, however, and hey, you would never admit it, but you did get attached to the child in your journey together. "That's great! What's her name?" 

"Well, we don't know.” Your mother gave you a look that made you shrug sheepishly. "For all we know, she doesn't even have a name. We were thinking that... you could..." Your parents exchanged quick looks that had you slowly putting down the chopsticks. "Oh, I don't know... name her? Since you're the one who found and rescued her." 

You paused, looking at your parents with wide eyes. They wanted you to name the child? You supposed their logic made sense, but it felt slightly wrong to you. The baby wasn't yours. It felt like you were cheating a couple out of one of their first steps as parents. And you didn't like it, but you didn't see why you should refuse. After all, your parents had adopted the kid. 

"How about...." You pondered for a moment, letting out a prolonged hum. "Saki." Because even as you traveled through the dark, often ominous environment of the forest, one glance down at the baby tucked safely in your arms gave you hope that you would make it. 

"I think it's perfect," your mother softly whispered, looking down at Saki with a smile. The baby stirred just a little, before settling back down in a deep sleep. You watched for a moment, then snapped yourself out of your daze and continued to eat, feeling hungrier than you had in days. 

"So when can I leave this place?" you spoke in between mouthfuls, which only caused your father to give you a look. You swallowed the food in your mouth heavily, giving him a sheepish smile. "Sorry." 

"Well, since you're no longer in a critical condition, the hospital agreed to let you go in a few days time," your father told you, reaching out one of his hands to ruffle your messy hair. You swatted his hand away playfully. "Just need to get some paperwork done." 

"That's good," you hummed out, moving the rice around in its container. There was something that had been bothering you for the past few days, and you weren't sure if you wanted to ask your parents about it or not. Deciding on a whim, however, you came to the conclusion that they were bound to know more than you. "Where are... Deku and Uravity?" 

Your parents looked at you with incredulity, as though what you’d asked was the stupidest thing they'd heard all day. "They're pro-heroes, [Name]," your mother chided you for your obvious question. "They have better things to do than check up on a random patient." 

At that, you frowned. Ever since the two heroes came to visit you that one time, they hadn't been back. Which perturbed you a bit, since they’d seemed quite distraught when you couldn't remember them. Surely, they would've visited you once more? Actually, now that you thought about it, you hadn't seen any of your friends since being admitted into the hospital. Where were your classmates from high school? Your teammates from Best Jeanist's agency? Your roommate? Why were your parents the only ones visiting you? 

"I mean... I guess...." you mumbled to yourself, suddenly not in the mood to talk. To your parents anyways. It wouldn't surprise you if they turned out to be the ones behind it all. Though, part of you still wondered if... your friends... forgot? No, no, don't be ridiculous, you scolded yourself, they could be busy. That's all. Either way, you planned on talking to one of the nurses about your visitors. Ever since you learned that you were the number eight pro-hero—or well, you used to be—it occurred to you that you might be under strict regulations. After all, if you had to be relocated due to paparazzi, then it's entirely possible the hospital was monitoring your visitors..... It still didn't explain why you weren't informed, though. Or why your close friends weren't let in. Maybe you were just overthinking everything.

"Something wrong, honey?" your mother asked gently as she peered up into your face. You made eye contact with her, before shaking your head. 

"No, just...." You didn't feel like probing your parents with questions they probably wouldn't answer truthfully. But you needed to ask them about your amnesia. "Did you guys ask the doctors about setting me up with a therapist? Y'know, for my memories?" Last time your parents visited you, you discussed with them the possibility of getting a therapist skilled in amnesia, with the hopes that you might be able to remember something. 

"About that…” your father spoke up slowly, shifting around in his chair as he turned his head to look at your mother. Damn it, they were doing their stupid telepathic communication thing again. "We've decided to not hire a therapist."     

"What? Why??" You were confused, a sinking feeling settling itself in your gut. Didn't they want you to get your memories back? Or at least increase the possibility of it happening? 

"Honey, we don't have the money to afford it," your mother gave you a soft frown, "and besides, you're perfectly capable of getting your memories back on your own, if it's even possible. Using a therapist would only be a waste."

"But..." It seemed like money would be the main issue. You knew your parents weren't the richest people around. You already felt bad that they had to pay for your hospital bill, which surely wouldn't be the cheapest. Maybe you could help pay it off? Since you technically were a pro-hero, you had to have money saved up from your government payments, right? The only problem was you couldn't really remember where you kept all the cash, and even if it was in a bank, you didn't have the proper credentials to take money out of your checking account. This was such a hassle. 

You let out a long sigh, a sinking feeling encompassing your gut at the idea of not getting extra help that you clearly needed. Even if you really wanted to. But you had to admit, there wasn't even a strong likelihood that you would remember a single thing anyways. It was all up to chance. "Okay, fine," you muttered, returning to your food. You'd find another way. Somehow. 

---

Half a week later, you found yourself outside of the hospital, breathing in the cool, fresh air. The wind ruffled through your hair and you took a moment to admire the busy streets and bumbling pedestrians. You drank in the sunlight, thankful that your sun-deprived skin would be able to return to its normal shade with the time you would spend outside. 

"All right, everything's set," your father hummed to himself as he shuffled around a few papers and stuffed them in a bag. You felt yourself lurch forward slightly as he started to push you down the wheelchair ramp. With your ankle still in a cast and your head still getting dizzy every time you stood, the doctors gave you a wheelchair to be pushed around in. You didn't like being confined to it; it felt suffocating. Restrictive. But you also didn't like the lightheaded spells you got whenever you took a few steps forward. 

"Is Mom waiting in the car?" you asked as you adjusted the sunglasses on your head; there was still a chance that some paparazzi would be lurking around. You had to stay somewhat disguised, even if it was strange to you. It would take a while for you to get used to the whole 'number eight pro-hero' shtick. 

"Yeah, she stayed with Saki," your father replied, pushing you toward the hospital parking space. You soon reached a black Pathfinder with tinted windows. Your father helped you get into the backseat of the vehicle, before folding up the wheelchair and sticking it in the trunk. With the start of the engine, you were off, your father driving carefully through the streets. 

You turned your head to look at the child sleeping in the baby seat besides you. Expression softening, you adjusted the small hat on her head, tucking her small hairs to the side. It saddened you to think that some lonely couple out there was missing their baby. Unless they were dead. Whichever the case, you promised to both them and yourself that you would take care of the girl, protecting her from harm. It was the least you could do.

Turning back to face the front, you glanced at the backs of your parent's heads, eyeing them warily. You had been able to talk to one of the nurses, and apparently your parents had restricted all visitations to immediate family only. They didn't want any unnecessary attention. It was something that made you feel deeply... confused. Limited. You knew your parents meant well and didn't want certain information leaking out to the public, but did they really have to prevent your friends from visiting? It seemed unfair. You were... what, twenty-five, apparently? (You couldn't believe you were that old already, it completely boggled your mind). You were an adult! You could take care of yourself. You just needed to be careful around your parents. You were already aware of their overprotective ways. It seemed like nothing much had changed with them. 

It wasn't long until you arrived at the small, familiar house you’d become well acquainted with in your childhood. It wasn't much, but it was home. Just a two story house. The top floor and attic were taken by another family. You got the bottom floor and the basement. It worked out, thankfully. Your father bustled around to park the car and help you get out of the backseat. By the time you were nestled in your wheelchair and rolled toward the front door, your mother had already grabbed Saki and went inside the house, leaving the door open.

"I'll put on something to eat," your mother called from the kitchen, before stepping out with a bottle in her right hand and the baby cradled in her left. "[Name], be a dear and feed Saki for me."

"Okay," you agreed, holding out your still-bandaged arms so that your mother could gently tuck the cooing child in your arms and then disappear back into the kitchen. You looked down at the little girl, smiling as she babbled incoherently up at you in that innocent way only babies could achieve. You looked up at your father once the baby started sucking on the little nub of the bottle, who had closed the front door behind him. "Can you take me to my room?" 

He nodded and pushed you around the house, taking you through the living room and into the hallway that led to the familiar white door of your bedroom. Ever since you graduated, you had moved out to share an apartment with a friend, wanting to escape the stifling presence of your parents. To you, you hadn't been in the room for over a year, but you knew it was much longer than that, what with your missing time and all. 

Once your father opened the door and pushed you in, you took in the sight that greeted you, breathing in deeply and feeling entirely nostalgic. The air smelled like lemons and pineapples, clean and refreshing. Your parents must have tidied it up before you got there. Posters of your favorite heroes lined the walls by your bed, which was tucked in the left corner. Your eyes softened at the sight of all the stuffed figures resting gently on the pillows. Your desk, which was pushed up near the open window to your right, had some old books and journals on them, stacked neatly in a pile. Picture frames of your family and friends lined the walls everywhere, fairy lights strung up near the top of the walls. A few glow-in-the-dark stars were plastered onto the ceiling above your bed, worn down from time. 

What caught your attention, however, was the white baby crib set up near your bed, blue sheets and blankets tucked inside. You allowed your father to push you further into the room so that you were near the bed, before you caught his gaze and gestured to the crib wordlessly. 

"Your mother and I decided to put the crib in here," was what he said in response, turning to look at it. "There wasn't really space anywhere else, and you, well, know her the most." He seemed to skate around the topic of your kidnapping. His right hand pointed to the closed closet doors near your desk. "We cleared out space in the closet for all of Saki's things. Might have to go shopping for more, honestly.” He chuckled to himself. 

You nodded, cracking a smile. Your father chatted with you a bit more before receding to the kitchen, hearing his wife calling for him. He left the door a little open and you stared at it for a moment, then turned around. Glancing down at little Saki, you took note of her sleepy eyes, the bottle nearly empty of its milk. Tugging it gently from her mouth, you set the bottle on the carpeted floor, lifting the child in your arm to lean upright against your right shoulder. You gently patted her back, waiting for a small burp, before letting the baby rest there for a moment. 

Letting out a small breath of air, you gazed up at the pictures along the wall in front of you. Leaning back slightly to admire the times that you could remember. You really should go to the apartment you shared with your friend after graduating. You weren’t entirely sure if he still lived there, but it couldn't hurt trying. You still remembered where the complex was located, thankfully. Maybe going there could help you tie up some loose ends. Besides, you missed your friend. All of them. 

But for now, you thought, feeling the fresh air flow lazily around the room from your open window, you could finally relax. Could finally breathe. 

You were home.

#lmk if the links are working to previous or future chapters #lol #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #fmnkb #reader insert #fanfiction #also on quotev and ao3 #bakugo #katsuki bakugou

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [10] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4.3k+

mentions: third pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part nine    part eleven

Bakugou fucking hated traffic. 

He cursed heavily as he slammed a hand on the steering wheel of his car, groaning at the long line of vehicles in front of him. Honestly, if it were up to him, he would book the hell out of his car and just explode his way to the hospital. But he couldn't, since well, it was raining pretty heavily, and he was sure to be noticed should he use his explosions to get there. Attention was something he was trying to avoid. 

He scoffed, leaning back onto his seat as he ran a hand through his wet, spiky hair. He'd already gone back to his apartment to change into different clothes. A black hoodie now covered his figure, dark jeans accompanying them. He'd decided to keep his mask on, seeing that it would help him stay disguised while he made his way to the hospital. Or at least, he thought it would. Either way, he didn't care at the moment, just wanting to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. 

Which was starting to look like a difficult thing to do, seeing that he was stuck in fucking traffic. God, it was just his luck that the damn hospital was a few hours' drive away. Why couldn't it have been in the city?? It was all the way in the fucking countryside, miles away from his agency. And to make matters worse, his phone was on the verge of death. He didn't even have a wire on him so he could plug it in to charge in his car. Fantastic. 

He huffed out as he watched the rain build up on the windshield before it was wiped away. Dark clouds hovered overhead, lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. It reflected his mood, in a way, as he sat there waiting. His stomach churned with all sorts of emotions, the most prevalent one being anxiety. It swirled deeply, persistently, in his gut and his fingers tightened along the outer edge of the steering wheel. His mind kept drifting off to you, wondering if you were okay. If you were safe. Fuck, he really hoped so. He hit his steering wheel again, groaning out as his car beeped along with the other cacophony of vehicles waiting on the road. 

Finally, finally, he reached the hospital, quickly parking his car in the allotted space before shoving himself from his seat. There were some news reporters still standing outside of the hospital, security guards preventing them from stepping inside. The rain was pouring down harsher than earlier, so he booked it through the automatic sliding doors, keeping his head down to make sure he wouldn't get spotted and subsequently mobbed by those nosy liars. He cursed as he felt himself get soaked. He forgot an umbrella in his haste to make it to the hospital. Too late now, he just had to suck it up. 

Shaking his hair out, he made sure to tug his hood higher over his head, ensuring that no one would be able to see his face unless they peered up at him from below. He glanced around and watched as nurses and doctors bustled around, the smell of disinfectants making him crinkle his nose. Steady beeping sounds and murmurs echoed around, and he distantly wondered if one of those beeps belonged to you. There weren't many people in the waiting area. He looked around, but didn't see Deku or Kirishima anywhere. Maybe they hadn't reached the hospital yet? No, he frowned, Kirishima said Deku and Uraraka would reach here before him. They were probably already visiting you. And Kirishima was probably stuck in traffic as well; he did have to pick up the others anyways. He likely wouldn’t get to the hospital for a while.

Bakugou made his way to the receptionist's desk, clearing his throat to get her attention. She looked up, pushing her wired glasses up her nose. "How may I help you?" 

"What room is Réalité in?" he grunted out lowly, shoving his hands in his pocket. The receptionist eyed him suspiciously, flipping through some papers. He held back a scoff, feeling antsy. He didn't have fucking time for this.

"Sorry, but pro-hero Réalité is being kept in a private ward," she replied briskly, looking at him with a steely gaze. He stared right back at her, though she probably couldn't see him anyways, since his hood was covering his face. "Visitations have been restricted to immediate family only, so unless you meet the criteria, I'm afraid you can't go in." 

Immediate family?!? He gritted his teeth, muttering a few curses under his breath. How the fuck were Deku and Uraraka able to get in then?? Maybe they got here before they privatized your room? Or maybe they just let them in because they're pro-heroes (especially since Deku's number one)? Bakugou clenched a fist, setting it down on the elevated desk in front of the receptionist, before leaning down toward her, carmine eyes boring into her own. "Listen, I need to see her. What. Room. Is she in?" 

For a moment, the receptionist just squinted up at him, eyes raking over the distinct features that poked out from under his hood. Then, as though struck by a sudden thought, she let out a small gasp, her eyes widening. "Oh! Dyna—" 

"Shut up!" he hissed out threateningly, raising up his other hand to make a 'shushing' motion. His eyes darted around to make sure no one heard her loud ass voice. Everyone within the vicinity seemed preoccupied with their own things, so he looked back at the receptionist, who continued to watch him with wide eyes. "Look, can you just give me her damn room?" 

The woman just continued to watch him, before giving her head a little shake and shooting him a somewhat sheepish smile. He felt his gut clench at her expression, his head starting to throb in irritation. "Sorry, but I'm truly afraid I cannot. Réalité's parents restricted visits to family only, and I can't allow anyone else to see her, even if it's a top ten hero."

Bakugou clicked his teeth, leaning away from the receptionist's desk. Of course your parents would make your visitors restricted to family. He can't say he didn't expect it, though it wasn't a prevalent thought on his mind at the moment. Fucking hell, this was why he loathed hospitals. The woman really wasn't going to allow him in. He'd just have to find another way. Maybe Deku and Uraraka were around somewhere. They had to know where you would be located, right? 

"Whatever," was his only response to the receptionist, before he turned around and stalked his way to the waiting area for the visitors. His eyes were peeled, swiveling around to look for any hints of green or pink as he tried to appear inconspicuous. He probably looked like a creep, dressed in all black with his head lowered to the floor. But he couldn't give any less of a shit. He was wasting fucking time roaming around aimlessly. Maybe he could try sneaking through the halls to find you himself? But he could feel the eyes of the receptionist on him as he rounded a few chairs, damn it. He'd have to be careful.

Just as he turned to glance quickly around the hospital again, he saw two familiar figures walk around a corner, talking lowly to each other. They didn't notice him, too engrossed in their own conversation. He quickly followed after them, approaching the man dressed in turquoise from the back, and placing a strong hand on his right shoulder. 

The man twirled around, expecting to see a doctor of sorts. He furrowed his brows slightly at the hooded figure in front of him, before noticing the familiar face that peered at him. "Wh— Kacchan?? You're here! Why're you dressed like that?" 

"Deku," Bakugou grunted out as a greeting, lifting his head up slightly so they could see his face better. "Fuckin' paparazzi would get on my ass if I came in my hero suit." 

"Edgy as always," Uraraka sighed out to herself, eyeing the skull that was plastered onto the front of his obsidian hoodie. Crimson eyes turned to shoot a glare at her, obviously having heard her tiny comment, but she ignored it and continued on. "We were just coming to check if anyone else had arrived. It's just Deku and I here." 

"Kirishima and the other shitheads are on their way," Bakugou muttered out, fidgeting with his fingers stuffed in his hood pocket. "Well? Take me to her room." 

Uraraka rolled her eyes at his commanding tone while Deku looked at him in confusion. The ash-blond had to hold back from snapping at him to hurry the fuck up already. "The receptionist didn't tell you where she is?" 

"Fucking no!" he growled, feeling his annoyance and irritation build up. "Her parents fucking restricted visitors to 'immediate family', and I can't get in, since well..." he rolled his eyes, "...y'know." 

"Huh, they must have done so after we left.” Deku rubbed his chin before noticing how his childhood friend was about to blow a fuse if he kept delaying any longer. The Symbol of Peace was actually pretty reluctant to bring Bakugou to your hospital room—for obvious reasons. He wasn't sure how the ash-blond would react. He hesitated a bit, opening his mouth. "Actually, Kacchan I—" 

"Damn it, shitty Deku, just take me to the room already or I'll go find it myself!" Bakugou hissed angrily, shooting an almost murderous glare at the poor male. He was getting really pissed now. He already had a pretty shitty day and now this idiot was just making it worse. 

"Bakugou," Uraraka suddenly spoke up, a look of unease etched out on her features that he hardly took notice of. "I really think—" 

"Shut it, Round Face," Bakugou growled, deciding that he had enough of their damn stalling. He shoved past the two, walking in the direction they came from with a scoff. "I'll find my own damn way." 

But of course, there was no way Deku and Uraraka were going to leave him to storm around the hospital, knowing what they know. They exchanged quick glances with each other before jogging ahead to walk beside him. And from then on, they walked in silence, not feeling the need to talk with one another. Bakugou didn't feel like talking anyways, preferring to seethe in silence as his feet guided him along the tiled floors. He wasn't oblivious to the small exchanges occurring between his present company though, just electing to ignore them as he brooded.

"That's her room," Deku suddenly spoke up as he stopped walking, causing the other two to automatically stop as well. Bakugou looked forward at the door the freckled hero was pointing at. It was closed, practically blending in with the wall. If he listened carefully, he could hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor mixed in with the other sounds of the hospital. 

He could feel his heart racing, palms getting sweaty. This was it. You were right beyond that door, just down the hall. After nearly half a year of not seeing you, wallowing in a perpetual mixture of anger, sadness, and desperation, he would finally have the chance to be with you. Look at you. Tell you—

"Kacchan," Deku interrupted his downward spiral into his thoughts, grabbing him by the elbow. He turned his head sharply to look at the man who stood behind him, sending him a piercing crimson glare that didn't seem to rattle him. "...Be gentle." 

Bakugou let out a harsh scoff, tugging his arm out from Deku's grip, who easily let go. Who the fuck did he think he was, telling him to “be gentle” ? He wasn't a dumbass! He knew you would be in an obviously fragile state. He knew how to fucking handle himself and his emotions! He wasn't a bratty teenager anymore, after all.

"Piss off," was all the ash-blond said as he turned on his heel and made his way to the room at last, telling himself to calm the hell down. From then on, all he could practically see was the door, his eyes honing in on it and blocking out all other external stimuli. He couldn't stand waiting any longer. Patience was never one of his virtues. He picked up the pace, feeling the anxiousness swirl around in his gut, before he threw all caution to the wind and threw the door open somewhat sporadically. 

The room was much smaller than he expected, a light rumble of thunder echoing around it from the open window on the right wall. His eyes immediately went to the bed against the left wall. He locked gazes with you, crimson clashing with your own as he took a step forward. His heart clenched at the state you were in, bandages covering your entire body. Your right foot was elevated above the bed, a cast surrounding it. Your hair was a mess, scattered on top of your head. A few bandages were plastered to your face, bags lining the bottom of your bright eyes. You looked so small, so… frail. An echo of the former glory you used to be.

He took another step forward, a hand reaching up to tug the wet hood off of his head. He barely let out a breath, so absorbed into watching you, looking at your eyes that seemed so distant, that he almost didn't register the quickened beating of her heart monitor. He wanted to ask you a million questions, tell you a million things. 

But just as he opened his mouth, you screamed. 

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you screeched out, and it startled him, snapping him out of his stupor. You were scrambling backward on the bed, getting tangled in wires and sheets. He looked at you in alarm, the beeping of the monitor increasing as he stared into your eyes. And all he saw within them was fear, so much fear, mixed in with a plethora of other emotions that threw him off. It made him confused, his heart leaping up to his throat. What the actual fuck was happening? 

He was going to walk toward you, maybe hoping that you were just momentarily seeing things, but before he could, your eyes flashed that familiar purple, and he barely managed to get out a "What the—" before your aura shot out of your hands, slamming into his chest. He let out a grunt as he was pushed back and knocked into the wall, the back of his head hitting it harshly. For a moment he was immobilized, listening to you scream again, before he felt the aura weaken. The strength he felt trapping him against the wall was only temporary, and he found that he was able to dissipate your quirk with a small wave of the hand. He frowned. 

Bakugou stepped forward once again only to watch as you toppled over backward off the side of the bed, a small yelp escaping you. He shot towards you in alarm, his mind racing with the thoughts of what the fuuuuuck was going on?? He loomed over you, his eyes softening as he watched you struggle and yell, reaching a hand down to pull you up by the arm. "Fucking—" 

You yelled out again, your left foot kicking out and nailing him in the chest. He grunted, stumbling backward. Fucking hell that was a strong kick. He felt himself get winded, his chest hurting slightly from the impact. He quickly brushed it off, having dealt with worse injuries. 

"Calm down!" he finally managed to yell out, raising his hands up in what he hoped was a placating manner. His eyes watched as you practically latched onto the opposite wall, your eyes darting around wildly. The heart monitor was now a soft drone in the background, having been disconnected from your body. It somewhat helped the situation; the room wasn't as chaotic anymore. But, as he watched your heaving and pressing yourself as far away from him as possible, he realized something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You didn't realize it was him. 

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" you screamed out again, making a desperate lunge for the door. Bakugou was quick to catch you around the waist, however, his arms reaching easily around your deteriorated body. You were thinner than he remembered. Lighter. But you still put up one hell of a fucking fight, slipping around in his hold as you tried to escape. You nearly punched him in the jaw, and he wrestled around with you for a bit, trying to get a firmer hold on you while keeping your injuries in mind. 

"Fucking chill out, woman! It's me!" he almost roared out in his frustration, not entirely understanding why you were behaving this way. Why the fuck were you screaming at him?? Did he do something?? Your screaming increased so much, hurting his head, making him frazzled. He almost didn't hear the other doctors barging into the room, having finally reached the room where chaos ensued. 

"Hey, hey, HEY!" a doctor yelled out, and Bakugou felt you being torn from his grasp. He felt empty. Cold. He wanted to lunge forward and grab you again, maybe make you look at him—truly look at him—and realize that it was him. He was here. You weren't in any danger. You were safe.

His eyes shrunk as he growled out, stepping forward with the intention to ask one of the doctors what the hell happened to you. "Wait—" 

But before he could get another word out, he felt someone latch onto his arm, pulling him backward. He snarled and turned his head to look at whoever grabbed him. Deku stared at him with wide eyes, looking at you and then back at him. "Kacchan— what—"

"Deku," he spat out, attempting to tug himself out of the freckled hero's grip, but he only held on tighter. "Fucking let go of me!" 

"Bakugou, what did you do??" Uraraka appeared by his side, one of her hands also holding him back. He growled out, struggling to be released from their grips, but they held on stronger, and he cursed out loud. These fucking idiots—!

"I didn't do shit!" he yelled out, attempting to twist around. He was getting pissed, his mind swirling with the confusion of previous and present events. One of them wrapped an arm around his chest, tugging him back. He snarled at them, the screaming still coming from you making something in his head buzz and buzz and buzz. He needed to try to help you! Why didn't these shitheads understand that?! 

"GODDAMN IT!" he roared, preparing to spin around to punch Deku in the throat or something, but when the yelling from you suddenly stopped, his head snapped forward, eyes darting to lock onto your hazy gaze. 

He was grounded by the tears that slid down your face, your body limp in the holds of the doctors and nurses. They muttered to each other, checking on your vitals and whatnot as they lowered you onto the bed. He watched your eyes slowly slide shut, his mouth falling slightly open as he felt himself being tugged out of the room. He'd stopped struggling as well. 

Everything seemed fuzzy. Deku and Uraraka led him out of the room, leaving the doctors to do their work. They stopped somewhere down the hall, letting go of him soon after. He was lost in his thoughts, thinking about your red-rimmed eyes that swam with tears. With so much sadness in them. So much fear. It befuddled him. And to have that directed at him... He felt his jaw tense and he bit down harshly on his lip. 

"Kacchan," Deku's voice swam before his ears, bringing him to reality. He looked up, blinking away the distortion that threatened to take over. Deku gripped onto his shoulder with a firm hand. "What happened in there?"

Bakugou raised his hands to rub at his temples, shrugging off the green male's grip. "Shit… I don't know, all right? I—"

"Dynamight." 

Bakugou felt his teeth clench at the familiar voice, looking up with his friends in unison to see two figures walking toward them. The bags of food clenched in their hands made it apparent that they had been in the hospital's café, but the cold, tense looks in their eyes confirmed his thought that they had seen or heard everything. Fuck.

"Mr. [Surname], Mrs. [Surname]," Deku greeted them politely when it seemed like Bakugou wasn't going to say anything as he glared down at the tiled floors before looking up at the older adults. "Is there something you need?" 

"We want you to stay away from our daughter," your father immediately said firmly, once they stood a few feet away, a frown decorating his lips. "All of you, and especially you, Dynamight." 

"You've all been nothing but trouble for her," your mother tutted out, shooting her own glare at the pro-heroes.  

"You can't fucking make us," Bakugou sneered out, digging a bigger hole for himself. But he didn't care. He was tired of having to deal with your parents scrutinizing him and his friends. 

"Yes we can," your mother retorted, crossing her arms. "It was your fault she was kidnapped in the first place. You saw how she reacted to your presence. It would do you all well to stay away while she recovers." 

"You—!!" Bakugou snarled out, stepping forward to give them a piece of his mind, but Midoriya pulled him back, shooting him a meaningful glare. Uraraka raised her hands, trying to appease both parties, but your parents only gave them more dirty looks, turning around to make their way back to their daughter's room. Bakugou fumed in place, the grip on his arm preventing him from stomping over to them and saying what he really wanted. He let out a harsh scoff, tugging his arm away (yet again), from Deku. "Tsk, what the fuck ever." 

Deku let out a sigh, crossing his arms as he watched the retreating backs of the adults. "Her parents never liked heroes." 

"They can't seriously expect us to stay away, right?" Uraraka frowned, looking at the Symbol of Peace, who only shrugged. 

"Of fucking course not!" Bakugou barked out, shoving his hands into his hood pocket. With everything that had happened within the last ten minutes, he felt like going home and taking a long ass nap. His head was starting to hurt. "Like hell I'm gonna follow what they say!" 

"Well they do hold authority over her," Deku muttered out, rubbing his chin. "Especially in her condition. They can actually cause a lot of damage, publicity-wise, if we were to continuously force our way into her life. I don't think it'll be wise to go against what they say, even if we want to. It might cause more harm than good, and... well, she..." he trailed off with his thought, making Bakugou look at him with a quirked eyebrow. 

"She what? Spit it out, Deku," the ash-blond growled out lowly, thinking back to the fear, all the fear and sadness that swam in your eyes. That was pointed at him and only him.

Deku let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, she, uh, doesn't really remember us..." His voice got quieter with every word. 

"What?!" Bakugou barked out, turning his body to face his childhood friend. Uraraka stepped to the side to get slightly in between them, not wanting them to break out into a scuffle, which tended to happen once in a while. "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"When we went to visit her, she didn't know who we were," Uraraka explained, staring directly at Bakugou with an emotion in her eye that he couldn't quite decipher. "She didn't remember us." 

"The doctors won't tell us anything either," Midoriya continued, glancing at the open door that was your room, and watching a few nurses leave it. "Everything has been privatized, most likely courtesy of her parents. They really don't want anyone knowing anything." 

"Fucking hell," Bakugou groaned out, running a hand down his face. Did you have amnesia or something? Maybe your memories were just slow? It made him suspicious, an uneasy feeling overcoming him. He wasn't sure if you didn't remember him, but with the way you reacted, it wouldn't be surprising if you didn't. And the thought scared him. It unnerved him. And he wouldn't exactly know for sure until he got diagnostics from the head doctor, which wasn't likely to happen.

"You still didn't tell us what happened in there," Uraraka suddenly pointed out, tilting her head as she thought about the screaming, all the screaming, and the beeping, the sobbing. Her and Deku didn't see everything that had happened, but they did hear it, even as they had been making their way back to the waiting area. The whole section of the hospital probably did. They came rushing to aid Bakugou in the moment, only to see you being restrained by multiple doctors. "It sounded serious." 

Bakugou looked at the brunette momentarily before turning his gaze away, casting it to the floor. "I don't know, she just started screaming at me for no fuckin' reason. Didn't want me to go near her." But he did anyway, of course.

"Odd," Deku mumbled under his breath, making that thinking expression of his that Bakugou always hated. "Something must've happened to her while she was kidnapped to elicit such a reaction. But there's no way for us to find out for sure unless from her directly, which'll be hard because of her parents." 

Bakugou only nodded, too absorbed in his thoughts again. He hated to admit it, but Deku was right. They had to find out what exactly had happened to you at the facility. The hard-copied evidence they found there didn't tell them much. They had to learn from the source herself, but how would they be able to if they couldn't even go near you? There had to be a loophole.

Just, where would it be? 

#man i suck at this #all this updating shit #go on ao3 if you havent tbh #im up to chapter like 15 on there #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #fmnkb #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [9] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4.7k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au, trigger warnings for a panic attack kinda?, and endeavor (ew) 

part eight    part ten

The silence that stretched over the room seemed infinite.

Your eyes were locked onto the freckled male's, observing him as an unreadable expression encapsulated his face. You looked at the female behind him for a split second, watching as her mouth opened in the shape of an 'o', her eyebrows slanting upwards on her round face. You weren't sure as to what was going on, but you felt guilty somehow. Guilty that these people seemed to know you, but you really didn't know who they were. 

"W-what do you mean?" the brown-haired woman spoke up slowly, stepping into the room further. She had her hands slightly raised in a placating manner. The green-haired man continued to stare, one of his gloved hands coming up to rest on his chin in thought. 

"Sorry I just..." you trailed off, suddenly uncertain as to what to say. Your eyes darted to the side, looking to your parents who remained silent, watching the interaction in contemplation. You fiddled with your bandaged fingers on your lap, your voice getting softer and softer with each word as shyness crept over your shoulder. "...don't know... who… you are..." 

"B-but—" The woman quickly walked over to your bedside, grasping one of your bandaged hands within her own. You tried not to jerk away, feeling slightly uncomfortable having your hands restricted. But you forced yourself to choke down your flinch, taking note of the glossy, brown eyes that peered into your own, asking questions that you didn't have the answers to. "We—" 

"Ochako." The green avenger immediately stepped forward with his long legs, resting a gloved hand on the shoulder of the aforementioned female. She turned around to look at him, and you couldn't exactly see what expression the woman was making, but you could see the meaningful look that the freckled hero had on. He glanced at your heart monitor, watching the steadily increasing beating of your heart, before pulling his comrade back by the arm and sinking into a little bow in the process toward you. "Please excuse us for a moment." 

With that he tugged the silent brown-haired woman out of the hospital room, one of his hands pulling out his phone as he respectfully and quietly shut the door closed. You sat there in quietude for a moment, still taking in all that had happened within the last few minutes. Your heart settled back down into a calm beat, the beeping of the monitor nothing but a drone in the background. You could still hear the pit-pattering of rain from outside, an echo of thunder resonating in the distance. God, you were tired.

"Who… were they?" you suddenly asked, turning your head from the closed door to your parents, who had yet to say anything. Well, they weren't saying anything out loud, that is. You always hated when they did their stupid telecommunication technique with each other. It always felt like they were keeping secrets.

"Baby," your mother began, stepping forward and running a hand through your disheveled hair. "Do you really not know them?"

You were starting to get slightly frustrated, not understanding why everyone kept asking you the same question when it was obvious what your answer would be. "No..." 

"Those were Deku and Uravity," your father slowly said, pulling a chair from against the leftmost wall to rest near your bed. He sat down heavily, running a weary hand through his greying hair. His face contorted into a thoughtful look that made you feel uneasy. "The number one and fifteen pro-heroes, respectively." 

"But I thought… Endeavor was the number one hero?" You were confused, looking between each of your parents as though you might catch something in their expressions that would tell you... well, anything. 

"Well he was." Your mother frowned slightly, letting out a tiny scoff. "But he got into an accident trying to save one of his sons a few years ago. Shouto, I believe." 

"He did???" You let out a bewildered gasp, finding it hard to imagine Endeavor, of all people, as sacrificing himself. Well, served him right, you thought wryly. You could vaguely remember the fiasco from years ago about Endeavor and the abusive relationship he had with his family. You couldn’t quite remember everything. You weren’t privy to all the nitty gritty details. "Is… is he alive?" 

"Oh yeah.” Your mother brushed off the question with a small wave of the hand, as though it was nothing. "He's just been incapacitated. Last I heard he was spending recovery time with his family. That's what hero work does to you, I guess." 

You then frowned, already knowing what your mother was implying with the condescending way with how she talked about heroism. "Mom..." 

It looked like your father wanted to say something, but before he got the chance, the door opened again and in walked Doctor Akira. She had been looking down at her clipboard, but upon sensing the tension in the room, glanced up with an impassive expression on her face. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but the patient is scheduled for an M.R.I." She raised up a hand, silencing your parents who had opened their mouths to ask questions. "And before you ask anything, please wait until after we get the results."

Your parents looked at each other before nodding in unison, shuffling around until they stood together by the end of the bed. Your mother looked at you for a split second, then turned to the doctor. "How long will it take?" 

"For the head, usually thirty to sixty minutes," Doctor Akira hummed out, tucking the clipboard under her arm as she walked up to the right side of the bed and crouched down. She grabbed something from underneath it, and tugged it out into the light. After unfolding it, you saw that it was a wheelchair. What an odd place to put it. But you supposed it was convenient; you really didn't think you had the energy to actually get up and walk all the way to the scanning room. 

"Let's… just get this over… with," you sighed out, lifting a hand up to toss the white covers off of your torso. You still got out of breath rather easily, something that was starting to irk you. 

After much maneuvering and assistance from your father, you finally managed to settle down in the wheelchair, resting your ankle gingerly on the small, attached stand in front of your chair. The cool metal pole of the I.V. drip was clutched in your left hand, allowing you to roll it along the floor as Doctor Akira pushed you out of the room. You felt uncomfortable crammed into the chair, your head throbbing now and then as you shifted around. You didn't realize just how exhausted you still were. But you sucked it up, not wanting to complain.

Just as they rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of the two apparent heroes who came to visit you. They were locked in a quiet discussion, making you tilt your head inquisitively at them. Your mind still felt a little fuzzy from everything, and that fuzziness only seemed to increase the harder you thought about the two pro-heroes. You really didn't know what was going on and you didn't like it at all. Your stomach churned with emotions that you had a hard time identifying. It was torturous.

With a shake of your head, you turned your head to look forward, your mind racing with worried thoughts about missing puzzle pieces and glassy brown eyes. 

When Midoriya closed the hospital door to your room, he immediately started muttering quietly to himself, tugging Uraraka to a quiet section of a hallway. Said female allowed herself to be pulled away, wiping the corners of her eyes quickly as she thought carefully about her interaction with you. Something was terribly wrong, and though she had an idea of what was happening, she really didn't want to believe it.

"Deku, why did we leave??" She pulled her wrist out of his grip, wrapping her arms around herself as they stopped in a secluded area. The Symbol of Peace glanced at her, rubbing his chin as he gave her an incredulous look. 

"It wasn't good for us to be there," Midoriya muttered, looking around to make sure they were alone. A nurse in the far distance bustled around with some papers. “She was getting anxious; her heart rate was rising. Us being there would only complicate things. After all, she's still recovering." 

Uraraka slowly nodded, now understanding why they left. She was so blinded by her emotions in the moment that she’d lost all rationality. She was still rattled by what had occurred, if she was being honest. The fact made her feel a slight twinge of melancholy. She was a pro-hero! She should have better control of her emotions, but she couldn't help it. This was her friend. Her friend who seemed to remember nothing about her. And to tell the truth, she didn't know how to react to that, feeling numb to it all.

"What happened to her?" Uraraka whispered out, watching as Midoriya fiddled with his phone. "Why couldn't she remember us?" 

"I'm not sure," he replied just as quietly, tapping something on his phone screen. "I can only guess she's still disoriented from being trapped in that facility, and then escaping through the forest by herself. Maybe she'll remember in due time? She seemed to know who she is and who her parents are, at least." 

Uraraka grimaced, thinking back to the files she had found during the sneak attack. "Or maybe something happened to her during all that quirk testing she went through?" 

"It's definitely possible." He furrowed his brows as he dialed a number and held his phone up to his ear. Uraraka fell silent as she listened to the faint sounds of ringing from the speaker. When the voicemail started playing, Midoriya let out a small curse under his breath, to which she raised her eyebrows. 

"Kacchan isn't answering his phone," he said to answer her unstated question. A frown decorated his face as he dialed another number. "He's probably driving anyway. But he has his Bluetooth set up in his car. Maybe he's too anxious to answer? Or he could be in a call with someone else—" 

"He's not gonna like this for sure," Uraraka sighed out, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to nibble on it. "But maybe she only forgot about us?? I mean I don't like it one bit, but it could be the case." 

Midoriya shrugged, deciding to end whichever call he'd been making, and placing his phone back into his pocket. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, a figure in white appeared from a door in the hallway they were standing in, walking toward them with her head lowered and eyes focused on the clipboard in her hands. 

"Wait, that's the doctor that took us to the room," Midoriya whispered quickly, pulling at his friend so that she stood next to him. The brown-haired woman turned her head to look at the approaching person, her eyes lighting up in realization. 

"Maybe she can tell us what's wrong!" Uraraka whispered back before pulling away from Midoriya to jog over to the doctor. The green-haired male had no choice but to follow, anxious to hear whatever diagnosis the doctor may have. He hoped it wasn't as severe as he thought it was.

"Uh, excuse me!" the bubbly hero called out to the doctor, who paused and looked up in slight surprise before her expression shifted into something much warmer and less contemplative. 

"Oh! Uravity and Deku! Done with your visit already?" the doctor asked kindly, giving them a smile. 

"Oh, no actually," Midoriya interjected, shooting Uraraka a look that made her close her mouth abruptly. "We were just wondering what condition Réalité is in. She seems to have a..." he trailed off, searching for the right words to phrase his thoughts. "...slow memory." 

The doctor's face contorted into something more sympathetic, shaking her head. "Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't tell you anything. Her parents requested to keep everything about her private. And we prioritize family over friends." She really did look sorry about the whole ordeal. "You're going to have to wait until either Réalité or her parents give permission." 

Uraraka glanced at Midoriya with withered hope, a look of desperation momentarily crossing her features. "There isn't anything you can tell us?" 

"No, sorry. I took an oath and I have to keep it.” The doctor looked at them apologetically, stepping around the two heroes to continue on her way. "I do have to give her an M.R.I. scan though. Please excuse me." 

With that, she disappeared in the direction of your room, leaving the two pro-heroes in temporary silence. Uraraka looked at Midoriya with slight worry and confusion, her fingers fiddling with each other. 

"An M.R.I.?" She lifted a hand to scratch at her temple. 

"The doctor must have figured something was wrong with her memory as well," Midoriya muttered, crossing his arms across his chest as he glanced in the direction she went. He lifted a hand to smack against his forehead in exasperation. "Of course her parents would want everything to be privatized. They really don't want anyone knowing anything, huh. Not that I blame them." 

"Yeah." Uraraka sighed, shaking her head. She pulled out her phone to glance at the time. "I guess all we can do now is wait." 

After going through the tedious procedure for the M.R.I. scan, you found yourself back in your hospital room, a cup of water clutched in your hands. You felt even more tired than before. Your whole body was sore and ached like a motherfucker. You just felt like curling up under your covers and sleeping until all the pain and confusion went away. But of course, your mind wouldn't allow it, too jostled by all the information you'd received within the past few hours. 

"Well the results came in," Doctor Akira announced as she reentered the room, holding her signature clipboard in her hand. You and your parents looked up in unison, waiting to hear what she had to say. You'd been sitting in the room for a while in silence, listening to the beeping of the heart monitor to pass the time. 

"And...?" your mother trailed off, sitting up in her seat by the window where she had been watching the raindrops slide down the glass. 

"Well, nothing seems to be wrong with her head," Doctor Akira said, not missing the way everyone in the room let out a collective breath of air. "There's no prevalent damage at least." 

"Then why is m... my memory apparently all messed up??" you asked confusedly, still wondering if you were truly forgetting something, or if you were just fine. 

"I can only assume the damage to your memory is quirk induced," the doctor explained, stepping closer to your bed. "Seeing that your quirk is mind-related and all. Is there anything you can tell us from the time you've been kidnapped that may have been the cause of it?" 

You fell silent, thinking about your time in the facility. You didn't like thinking back to… that. It brought up unwanted memories that you wanted to push away. Far away, where they couldn't disturb you as you recovered. "Well.... they tested these… drugs on me… all the time..." 

"Drugs? Can you specify what drugs they were?" Doctor Akira pulled out a pen from her bun, poising it over her clipboard to take notes. 

"Quirk… Nullification..." You had to take deep breaths in between your words. You couldn't imagine how much harder it would be for you to breathe if you didn't have the nasal cannula on. "And… something else. I had a Nullification drug.... in my pocket..." 

"Hmm," the doctor mumbled something under her breath, scribbling something down, "yes, I believe we found a syringe in the lab coat you were wearing. I'll make sure to give it to the police for analysis." 

You nodded, taking a sip of the water you had in your hands. At least something good came out of your kidnapping and subsequent escape. The police would be able to properly analyze the drug and hopefully prepare antidotes to it. It would certainly make dealing with the drug easier, should it ever be used by villains while in battle. 

"So..." your father finally spoke up, looking at you before turning to the doctor. "How much exactly, does she remember?"

"It's… hard to say," Doctor Akira sighed out, looking at them with sympathy, "but… I'd have to say that she's forgotten the past six years." 

"Six years?!?" you choked out, accidentally inhaling water down the wrong way as you started coughing. The doctor hurried over to help you, taking the cup out of your hands to place on the table as she pounded a hand against your back. You struggled for a bit before eventually getting rid of the water in your throat, letting out a few more coughs. You looked up at Doctor Akira with wide eyes. "How can you be sure??" 

"It's not confirmed, of course." The doctor frowned, stepping away from the bed to give you some space. "But based on the responses I got from you when I asked those questions, you seem to have forgotten six years." 

"Questions? Like what?" your mother asked, standing up from her chair as she anxiously glanced between the doctor and you. 

"Her age, the year," Doctor Akira said simply, shifting on her feet. 

Your parents looked at you, their expressions asking questions that you felt obliged to answer, no matter how confused you were. And how terrified. 

"I… I'm nineteen and it's 20XX," you said slowly, uncertainty plaguing you like a malicious virus. "...right?" 

"Oh baby, you're twenty-five," your mother said softly, as though the little bit of information might set you off. "And 20XX was six years ago..." 

"B-but..." You grew frustrated, clutching at your head desperately. "I— Best Jeanist, I work—" 

"You used to work for him," Doctor Akira said soothingly, keeping an eye on your heart monitor. She stepped forward to run a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. "At least, until you got your own agency as the number eight pro-hero." 

"N-number eight...?" You looked up with glassy eyes, darting between your parents and the doctor. Was it true? Did you really...? How could you forget such a thing? Such an important detail of your life?? You were a pro-hero? A pro-hero ??? You could sense your parents as they stepped forward, probably with the intention to calm down the catastrophe that was sure to happen. But you didn't want their serene words. You needed time to think. By yourself.

"Can I… be alone for a while?" you just barely managed to whisper, looking down at your lap where you stared at your bandaged fingers. There was a tiny hole near your index finger. Your eyes darted up to glance at the people in the room with you, who looked at you with emotions you didn't want directed at yourself. "Please?" 

Your parents seemed to sigh out before they agreed, saying something about going to the hospital's cafeteria to grab some food for you before they left. You didn't pay attention, nearly lost to the tormenting thoughts that churned around in your mind like a hurricane. 

"Don't despair just yet," Doctor Akira said, making her way to the door as well. "I have an acquaintance who will be properly able to diagnose your amnesia, and with some therapy, it might just be treatable." 

You didn't respond, listening to the sound of the door clicking shut. Your eyes remained downward, a glossy sheen overtaking them before a small drop of salty liquid fell down to your lap. You roughly wiped at the wetness, breathing in deeply in an attempt to reach tranquility. The rain outside came down harder than before, the sky lighting up with a brief flash of lightning. You ran a hand through your hair, feeling it get tangled around your fingers. 

Amnesia… Amnesia. You couldn't believe that you forgot six years of your life. Six years in which you apparently became a pro-hero. The number eight pro-hero, in fact. You supposed you weren't in the top ten any longer, what with your kidnapping and deteriorating strength. But six years! You didn't know what you'd forgotten. Didn't know who you had forgotten. It explained why those two heroes who visited you—Deku and Uravity—knew who you were. They were probably your friends. Right? They seemed genuine. Right?

God, you didn't know what to believe in! Were you even sure that they were telling you the truth? But no, you scoffed at yourself, why would they lie? If you only had access to a phone or the internet, you might be able to actually do some research and see for yourself if it was true. But they had no reason to lie to you. No reason. No way. 

How were you going to get through this? You despaired, curling into yourself as you forced yourself to not cry. No! You wouldn't cry. You didn't cry when you got kidnapped, and you didn't cry when you spent days on end trying to escape. But you were so, so lost. And you felt so lonely. Who should you trust? Surely there would be people out there who would try to lie to you should they ever find out that you have amnesia. Especially if you used to be such a top-tier hero. And it was certain to escape to the public somehow, if you weren't careful. You didn't want that sort of publicity at all.

You would just have to bear through it. Yeah. You were smart, you could probably be able to tell strangers apart from friends. But with no one to guide you, how could you be entirely certain? You could rely on your parents, sure, but.... did you want to? You didn't know anymore. You'd have to figure it out all on your own. And the thought devastated you, as much as you didn't want to admit it. 

You were so caught up in the steadily spiraling thoughts of your woes and sorrows that you almost missed the door slamming open. It startled you out of your stupor and your eyes darted up to look at the person who suddenly barged into your room with unnecessary vigor. What you saw made your throat run dry, your pupils shrinking as you made eye contact with crimson eyes. 

Crimson eyes, surrounded by loose strands of spiky blond hair nestled on top of a tanned face. A shredded black mask nestled on his face that seemed to sharpen his gaze even more. Sharp enough to dig through you like a knife, twisting your insides and leaving you with scars. So many scars. You recognized him. Recognized that face, attached to the poster in the White Room. In the Grey Room. It—

It was him. 

He was going to— He was going to hurt you. Kill you. He was going to hurt hurt hurt hurt— He was— It was. It was him. He stepped forward into the room, his eyes trained on you and your mind went completely blank. He was going to hurt you. He was going to hurt you. How did he get here? Your name was [Name] [Surname] and you hated the man named Dynamight, otherwise known as Bakugou Katsuki. He was going to hurt you. You didn't like him. You didn't—

Click click click click click. 

You were scared. He was here. He had eyes for nothing but you, one of his hands reaching up to tug the slightly damp hood off of his head. He stepped forward again, and you found that you couldn't move, your heart racing. Your head throbbing. Hurting. So, so much. It hurt, god, it hurt. Make it stop, make it stop. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't breathe.

And as he opened his mouth, you screamed. 

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" you screeched out, scrambling on top of your bed. The heart monitor picked up speed, beeping louder and louder, faster and faster, and your head hurt more and more and more and more, until you just couldn't take it any longer. Your eyes flashed, and a purple aura seemed to shoot out of your bandaged hands pointed outward, slamming into the ash-blond man until he was pushed against the wall. 

"What the—" He just barely managed to choke out, struggling against you. You screamed again, feeling your head practically cleave into two, your quirk weakening to the point where the man was able to dissipate your aura with a wave of his hand. He stepped forward, and you felt yourself fall off the bed, landing on the ground with a thud that made your body ache. Wires and tubes were tangled around you, but you didn't care.

He yelled out your name. "Fucking—" He was by your side in a flash, reaching a hand down toward you and you panicked, kicking out at him and nailing him in the chest. He stumbled backward and it gave you enough time to scramble to your feet, limping backward until your back hit the wall. You breathed in rapidly, eyes darting around for the exit located just beyond the man. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. You were alone— the doctors— where were—?!

"Calm down!" the man yelled at you, raising his hands up, but you heaved, knowing what his hands were capable of. Knowing that with them, he would hurt you. Kill you. And you hated him, you hated him so much, but he was scary. He was so fucking scary. Something seized at your insides and held it in a tight, tight grip. He was going to hurt hurt hurt—

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" you screamed again, lunging for the door in a wild attempt to escape, but he caught you around the torso, grappling with you, a grunt leaving his lips. You tried activating your quirk again, but it only resulted in another splitting headache, so you tried socking him in the face. He caught your wrists easily, wrestling with you. You felt as though all your nerves had been set on fire.

"Fucking chill out, woman! It's me!" the ash-blond nearly roared out, but to you, it only worsened things. Your screaming had increased so much, your eyes darting around in a panic, that you didn't hear the doctors rushing into the room with a few others. 

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Doctor Akira yelled out, running over to you two with some other nurses and doctors. You felt something grab you around the waist, pulling you from the man. You struggled and screamed, warm liquid running down your face as you sobbed incoherent words. New voices joined the fray, but you weren't able to discern who or where they were coming from. You only heard the raspy yelling of the ash-blond man. Dynamight. Bakugou Katsuki. 

Click click click click click. 

"He's—" you choked out, thrashing around your arms and legs as you felt yourself being restrained. "I'm—" Your eyes flashed open, darting to the side to look at the figures clad in white surrounding you. The masked faces. The smell of alcohol. And you knew you were in the facility all over again. And the figure looming over you with a needle in his hand was Doctor Shin, with his luminescent green eyes. And you were in trouble for attempting to escape, so, so much trouble. And you were terrified. "I'm sorry, I'm sORRY!" you sobbed out, your chest heaving, head throbbing. "PLE— PLEASE DON'T HURT—" 

Before you could utter another word, you felt a prick somewhere on your arm, your voice getting caught in your throat as immense drowsiness overcame you. You stopped struggling immediately, falling limp as your eyes fluttered to a close. Everything dulled out to a low drone, soothing you into a relaxed state of being.

And the last thing you saw before complete darkness encroached on your vision, were those eyes. 

Those crimson eyes.

#HEE HEE #the interaction we've all been waiting for is here #friendly reminder that this story is on quotev and ao3 #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bnha drabble #bnha imagine #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bnha #fmnkb #anime #fanfiction #reader insert

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [8] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader 

word count: 4.6k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au

part seven    part nine

The monotony of office routine was punctured by the occasional flip of a page, crimson eyes trained on the words etched out. Eyebrows furrowed occasionally, the creases between them getting deeper and deeper the further he burrowed himself in the documents. The sentences he read swirled around him, mocking him, as it dangled something just out of his reach. Bakugou let out a low growl, slamming the papers down onto his desk harshly before he ran a weary hand down his face. 

It had been a few days since they'd launched the attempted sneak attack on the facility in the Shizuka Forest. It wasn't all for nothing, oh no, they got some information from the villains who were captured. Well, 'villains' wouldn't be the right word to define them by. They were more like civilians, caught up in a scheme that only a few knew the true heart of as they scrambled to find any sort of paying job. Bakugou didn't know what kind of situation would lead to such naïvety, but he scoffed at it, still angered by the failed outcome of the mission. 

To him it failed anyways. To the others, they saw it as a minor setback. They did get some evidence, after all, and as Kirishima had put it, it was still “better than nothing.”

But the evidence didn't mean jack shit! Bakugou read through the documents Uraraka found lying around the facility, and most of it was just a garbled mess of empty words. Most of it. It did mention testing for newly developed quirk drugs, and he found a page that had a log of the information gathered from numerous experiments of said drugs on a female subject. You. It wasn't stated outright, but he knew it was you, and he knew the so-called 'testing' was just another diluted name for 'torture.' Fuck, he didn't even know what exactly you went through; all the file said was 'quirk sensitive' and he had no idea what that entailed.

Bakugou slouched over his desk, rubbing the palms of his hands into his tired eyes. He was alone, having asked (well, more like barked at) his secretary to tell anyone to fuck off if they needed him. He'd finished patrolling for the day, so he still had on his hero suit—except for his gauntlets, which needed some repairing after the last villain he had battled. Outside, distant clouds loomed over the city, signaling an incoming storm as the sun dipped halfway below the horizon. The thought of having to walk through the rain to get back to his apartment made him frown deeply. Whatever, he was sure there was an umbrella lying around somewhere. Or maybe he'll just use his car.

Leaning back on his chair, he ruffled his hair before rolling over to his computer, ignoring the papers that were scattered along the floor and his mahogany desk. He'd clean later. Using the mouse, he opened up a few files and browsed through an email Midoriya had sent him not too long ago. It contained folders, which had muted video clips from the surveillance cameras at the facility. Each folder was dedicated to a specific camera. He'd already gone through them a few times, teeth clenching at the images that were presented to him, but there was this one segment that always made his eyebrows furrow. 

Opening said file, he placed a thoughtful hand on his chin as he observed the video in front of him. This particular file was from a day or two before they had launched the sneak attack. Displayed before him was a section of a hallway, a closed metal door being the main focus. He already knew the door led to the room you had been kept in. He watched as two people entered the frame, one of them pushing the other in a wheelchair. It wasn't too difficult to discern the person in the wheelchair as you. The state you were in made him clench his teeth. 

They halted before the closed door for a moment, before going past it once it had been opened. They didn't bother closing it once they entered the room, and the remaining segment of the video was just trained on the partially opened door. 

All in all, it seemed like a pretty useless piece of information. But what really made Bakugou furrow his brows was the fact that the video was about two hours long—and most of it was just of the damned open door. He didn't see the person who'd been pushing the wheelchair exit the room at all. Which was strange, considering the fact that of all the other times you had been brought back to the room in a wheelchair, it didn't take more than ten minutes for whoever had been accompanying you to leave. From what he'd seen anyways.

It was puzzling for sure and he didn't know what to make of it. He'd watched this particular section numerous times, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. It wasn't until he tried messing around with the properties of the video itself that he found something. After slowing the imaging down by a considerable amount, he found something odd. At one point, a sort of electrical pulse had passed over the screen and everything seemed to freeze. Looking at the RGB values of the video from then on, he found that they had shifted to a more purple spectrum. Something had happened and he knew you had to do with it. 

Maybe you had escaped? He wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed feasible since they hadn't found you at the facility. Or maybe you'd tried to escape, but got caught along the way and relocated. Also feasible. At this point, Bakugou didn't know what to expect, but he hoped you at least were able to kick some ass. 

Looking through his email again, he clicked on one Midoriya had sent him pretty recently. It contained a particular folder that the freckled man had been reluctant to give to Bakugou. He actually had to yell at the nerd before he gave in and emailed it to him—but not without a word of caution, of course. At the time, Bakugou had scoffed at Midoriya's words, telling him to mind his own fucking business. Who did he think he was anyways, giving Bakugou orders like that?? He was one of the fucking best pro-heroes out there, surely he could handle a few damn videos?! He wasn't weak! He didn't need shitty Deku looking down at him like he would shatter into a million pieces upon seeing what the stupid file contained! 

It wasn't until he had watched one of the videos in the folder that he understood why Midoriya was reluctant to send it to him. Not that he would ever admit that. Ever. 

This folder contained the footage from the camera placed in the strangely white room with a chair in the middle, and a poster of himself set on the wall in front of it. He remembered scoping out the room during the sneak attack, finding it odd that his own merchandise was displayed on the wall. But he didn't think much of it at the moment, the adrenaline of the attack sending him out of the room and into the hallway where he blasted the faces of anyone he didn't recognize. 

It had taken all the strength he could muster to not throw his computer against the wall, instead just sitting there, seething in anger, as he'd watched through a few of the videos. He very nearly combusted, cursing at the fact that there was no sound and that the camera was positioned in a way that allowed him to see your face—every expression of pain etched out on it. He was right to assume that the 'testing' mentioned in the documents, just meant 'torture.' 

One thing was certain, however; he would find the fucking prick of a doctor who tortured you and kill him. Painfully. Those luminescent green eyes were practically ingrained into his mind. 

The ringing of his personal cell suddenly shook him out of his stupor, making him tear his gaze away from his computer screen to grab his phone. Recognizing the nickname displayed on the screen, he answered the call with a grunt that sounded like a bland “what,” not in the mood to talk. Not that he ever was.

"Dude." Kirishima's voice came from his phone speaker, sounding anxious and a bit rushed. "Why haven’t you been answering your phone?! Mr. Tsukauchi’s been trying to contact you!” Before Bakugou could retort back, maybe snap at his friend that he wasn’t in the mood, Kirishima pressed on. “Never mind that. Have you seen the news?!" 

"No," Bakugou gritted out, already swiveling around in his chair and getting up to walk over to the stand under his flat screen T.V. "Why?" 

"I think you should see for yourself. Check channel 25." 

Wordlessly, the ash-blond switched on the T.V. and flipped to the channel. His crimson eyes sharpened as he raised the volume, the edges of his hair starting to bristle as he listened to the female news anchor.

"—pro-hero Réalité was recently found this morning by a couple driving in the countryside. Having been missing for almost half a year now, the illusion hero had apparently been unconscious when she'd been found at the side of a road, holding a baby no older than a few months within her arms. The couple brought her and the baby to Byōin* Hospital, where she was immediately taken into emergency care." A video, recorded from a phone of sorts, cut across the screen, depicting Réalité being wheeled into the hospital, her unconscious figure practically drenched in blood. "Her condition was last stated as being critical. Doctors refuse to issue anymore information abou—”

"FUCKING hell!" Bakugou didn't even let the news anchor finish her sentence before he turned the television off, practically throwing the remote over his shoulder as he bolted to his office door, wrenched it open, and sprinted his way to the closest elevator. He didn't even acknowledge his confused secretary, who half-heartedly called out at him before sighing and letting him storm away. 

"Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down dude!" Kirishima tried to fruitlessly soothe the ash-blond, having already predicted his reaction. 

"I'm perfectly fucking calm," Bakugou gritted out, slamming a hand down on the elevator button, then after a few seconds of waiting, decided that it was taking too long and instead booked it to the stairs. "Where the fuck is Byōin Hospital?" 

"It's not too far from the Shizuka Forest. I'll send you the address," Kirishima said, listening to his friend practically fly down the stairs. "Midoriya and Uraraka are already on their way. They'll probably get there before you, since their agencies are closer." 

Bakugou growled out, kicking the staircase door open once he reached the first floor, and sprinting out of his office building. By now, dark cumulonimbus clouds had set heavily in the sky, a few drops of rain hitting his exposed skin lightly. "Why the hell are we just hearing about this on the news??" 

"Not sure, but it's probably because the hospital tried to keep the whole thing private. The information must have leaked out somehow," Kirishima responded, rolling his eyes at his friend's prickly attitude. "Listen, I know what you're thinking, and you know you can't just pull up to the hospital still decked out in your hero suit. What if the paparazzi sees? What will they think?" 

"Fuck off, who says 'm still even in my hero suit?" Bakugou gruffed out in irritation as he pulled out his keys to his car, and clicked on the small button to unlock his vehicle. He jumped in, tossing his phone onto the passenger seat and starting up the car as he pulled the seat belt over his torso. His phone automatically connected to his Bluetooth in the car, allowing him to hear his redhead friend over the speakers. He punched in the address to the hospital Kirishima sent him into his G.P.S., and soon pulled out of his parking spot. 

"Dude, I know you, and you never change out of your hero fit until you get home," Kirishima sighed. "Midoriya and Uraraka usually visit hospitals for charity work, so it'll be no surprise when they show up. No one will question them visiting Réalité anyways since they're always collabing together for hero work. You, however? You've rarely collabed with her, and you're not really the type to go to hospitals to hug children and offer condolences to victims." 

"All right, all right I fuckin' get it!" Bakugou barked out, eyes focusing on the road in front of him as he tried his best not to speed too much. It had started to rain a bit more heavily, making the ash-blond turn on his windshield wipers. "I'll go home and change or something! Fuckers won't recognize me." 

"Good. But make sure you keep your temper in check, man. They'll know who you are right away if you start yelling at the doctors." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he grunted, making a sharp right turn. "Is anyone else on their way?"

"Yeah, me ‘n Denki are on our way to pick up Mina and Hanta," Kirishima said, and Bakugou briefly heard a “Yo! Kacchan!” in the background from Kaminari. He was probably driving. "Other than that, I don't know." 

"Fine. I'll meet you there," was all Bakugou replied before he hung up, dedicating himself to driving. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he increased his speed slightly, anxious to get to the hospital, but even more anxious as to what would greet him once he got there. 

Eyes just barely opened, blurry images slowly coming into view. There was an odd ringing sound in your ears that didn't seem to want to go away. You felt so sore, a dull throbbing coming from various parts of your body. Your head felt terrible, a steady pounding coming from it. Your eyes closed again before reopening, and you did this several times before a white ceiling appeared. For a moment, your heart nearly stopped, believing you were in the White Room all over again. But upon turning your head to look to your right, you realized you were in a different room. A hospital room.

The smell of disinfectants and rubbing alcohol greeted your nose. You quickly realized you had a nasal cannula, which felt a little weird, but you appreciated the steady flow of oxygen all the same. A steady beeping sound came from your left, and you turned your head with much effort to look at the heart monitor. You slowly blinked again, before glancing at the I.V. drip next to it, and then looking down at your body. 

You couldn't see much apart from the white blanket that covered most of your torso, but you did see a cast covering your right foot, which was elevated over the bed. It was a little bit itchy, but you could ignore it. For now. You attempted to shift around a little, wincing at the pain that shot up your limbs. Licking your dry lips, you soon realized that your throat was parched. There was a glass of water sitting on the small table to your left. 

Using the remaining energy you had, you slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, biting down on your lower lip harshly at how your body groaned with the effort it took. Your arms trembled to lift yourself up, head spinning as you rested against the bedhead, taking a moment to breathe in deeply and soothe your heartbeat that had started to pick up slightly. 

Your hair tickled at your neck, and you glanced down at the part of your body that was exposed when you sat up. A light blue hospital gown decorated your person, allowing you to see the plethora of bandages that wrapped around, well, basically everything. You looked like a mummy. 

Leaning over, you fumbled for the glass of water, your bandaged fingers shaking as you used both hands to lift it up carefully. You nestled back against the bedhead, tilting the glass up to your lips to sip at the water slowly. It hurt to drink, but you took your time, surveying the room in the meanwhile and taking the moment to let your fuzzy mind catch up with everything. 

The room was closed and mostly barren, a few chairs resting against the wall to your left. A window was in front of you, white curtains billowing around lightly as it was cracked open a little. Raindrops tattered against the glass, bringing serenity to the overall atmosphere. You couldn't see much outside from your position on the bed, but you did see the dark clouds overhead light up once in a while, accompanied by the faintest sounds of thunder. Instead of bringing you plight, it actually helped soothe your nerves a little. 

Just as you finished the last drop of water, the door to your right clicked open. You turned your head in time to see a figure in white walk into the room, a clipboard in hand. And for one heart-wrenching moment, you swore you saw luminescent green eyes bore into your own. But no, those eyes weren't green; they were brown. And the figure belonged to that of a female doctor, not a male. 

"Oh, you're awake!" the woman said brightly, sending you a small smile while closing the door and walking further into the room. "I honestly didn't expect you to be up so soon. You were immensely dehydrated and exhausted when you were found. I'm Doctor Akira, by the way. How do you feel?" 

You took a moment to respond, observing the doctor carefully who had rounded the bed to take a look at the heart monitor. "I..." You let out a small cough, clearing your raspy voice. "I feel okay.... E… Everything still h… hurts a bit..." 

The doctor let out a small hum, finishing her inspection of the monitor. She gently took the glass out of your hands and set it down on the table with the clipboard. "Ah, I'll be sure to get you some more painkillers then. I'm sure you're confused about everything, huh?" 

You nodded slowly, before a sudden thought struck you and you jumped up a bit, looking at the doctor with wide eyes and a frantic heart. "Th— The baby! Where—" 

"Shhhh, don't worry," Doctor Akira soothed you, pushing down on your shoulders gently so that you rested against the bedhead once more. "The baby is fine. She’s been taken care of and is resting in the nursery as we speak."

You felt your shoulders relax, grateful that there was no serious harm done to the little thing. It meant you had done a good job at protecting it while you ran off together. You looked up at the doctor, a sting settling itself in your eyes. "'She'....?" 

"Oh yes, the little babe is a girl!" The doctor smiled, sticking her hands in her pockets. "We have yet to locate her parents, but once we have I'll be sure to let you know."

You gave her a nod, feeling slightly better. You watched as the doctor made a few notes on the clipboard, before straightening up and adjusting the rubber gloves on her hands. "Okay, well I'm just going to do a quick check over. It won't take long. Are there any questions you have in the meantime?" 

Doctor Akira pulled the blanket off of your torso, inspecting your bandages and injuries as you let out a small hum. You furrowed your brows as you watched, thinking about what to ask. "How.... long have I be… been asleep?" 

"Well, you were brought in unconscious sometime this morning, which was about ten to twelve hours ago. The couple who brought you in had found you passed out near a road along the Shizuka Forest, so I'm assuming you were probably unconscious for way longer. Actually, you're probably going to have to be relocated soon. The paparazzi already knows you're here and they've been outside all day, even in this weather," Doctor Akira replied, poking at a few spots along your legs and arms. "The state you were brought in was extremely critical. Your injuries were aggravated to the point of extensive bleeding. Really, it was lucky that they brought you in when they did. Any later and you probably would have been a goner."

"Oh...." you trailed off, wondering why the hell the paparazzi was outside. Surely it couldn't be because of you?? Well, you supposed a story of a missing sidekick would be good coverage. Your thoughts then drifted to the long, harsh journey you went through to get to civilization. You certainly did push yourself. No wonder you were stuck in such a deteriorated state at the moment. "Are they… still here? I would… lik… like to thank them..." 

"Unfortunately no, I don't think so," the doctor sighed out, pulling a small flashlight from her pocket and gesturing to you to lift your head. You complied, squinting slightly as the light shined in your eyes. "I'm sure they'll be back to visit, don't worry. You actually have a few people waiting outside to see you. Your parents, I believe, and some policemen are on the way to question you."

"My parents...?" Your eyes widened, and you blinked rapidly once the doctor pulled away, making a small note on the clipboard.

"Mmhm, they've been here all day." Doctor Akira gave you a soft smile and shrug of the shoulders. "You seem to have a bit of a concussion. If it's all right with you I would like to ask you a few questions to make sure everything is okay up here.” She tapped the side of her own head with her finger. 

You merely shrugged, giving the doctor a small “okay.” Your thoughts constantly drifted back to your parents, wondering how they must be feeling. It seemed like forever since you had last seen them. 

"All right!" The doctor clicked her pen and poised it over the clipboard. "Name?" 

You gave her your name.

"Age?" 

"Nineteen." 

Doctor Akira looked up from the board momentarily, before jotting something down. You looked at her in confusion, about to open your mouth to ask what was wrong, but the doctor simply continued on with the questions. "Year?" 

"20XX." 

"Occupation?" 

"I work as a… si… sidekick for Best Jeanist." 

"What's the last thing you remember, prior to the kidnapping?" 

You scrunched up your face, pulling out distant memories from the far recesses of your mind. "Uhhh.... I think I was on my way to Be… Best Jeanist's agency. It's all still a bit fuzzy."

"I see..." Doctor Akira made a final note on the clipboard before looking up at you with another one of her smiles. You tried to read her expression, feeling a little confused at her reactions, but you couldn't determine anything. "Well, I'm going to order an M.R.I. scan for you to check a few things. It's nothing to worry about, calm down." Your heart monitor had started picking up again. "It's going to take a while, so I'll open your room up to visitors now, is that all right with you?" 

"Sure..." you trailed off, still puzzled by the questions. You watched as the doctor pulled out a small device from her lab pocket, checked its screen, and placed it back where it came from.

"Seems like the number one hero is also here to visit you! How exciting!" She tucked the clipboard under her arm as she made her way to leave the room. You turned your head to give her a final smile as she opened the door. "Wait a moment, I'll bring them in." 

With that, you were left alone, the door being softly shut behind the doctor as she left. Confusion floated around your mind from both the questions, and also the fact that the number one hero was here to visit you. You. Out of all people?? You didn't think Endeavor made hospital calls. Much less for a lowly sidekick like yourself. You had yet to make an impression on the world, after all. You couldn't properly process all the information you were given, so you just sat there, waiting patiently.

It wasn't long until the door opened again, and the familiar faces of your parents rushed in, exclamations of relief coming from their lips as they pulled you into ginger hugs. You gave them sheepish smiles, hugging them back, and whispering an “I'm okay,” to them to help soothe their worried minds. Your mother was the first to pull away from the hug, gripping your face gently within her palms. 

"Oh baby, I'm so glad you're okay!" she hiccupped, gently running a hand through your slightly knotted hair. You offered her a small smile, already feeling tired from the small interaction. 

"Gave us quite the fright there, squirt," your father sighed out, shaking his head. You noticed your parents looked worn, new wrinkles present around their foreheads and mouths. When did they start looking so.... old? Surely they didn't look like that before? Or maybe it was because of all the stress you put them through when you were kidnapped? The thought made you feel guilty. 

"Sorry," you mumbled out, turning your head away to look at the open door just in time to see a figure step through, someone following him in the back. You tilted your head, feeling more confused than before. You knew the doctor said that the number one hero was here to visit you, but.... the person who just entered your room in no way looked like Endeavor.

He was very… green, decked out in a turquoise-like suit and red sneakers that were both accentuated with white and black. Messy green hair was nestled on top of his head, vibrant eyes of the same shade looking in your direction. You noticed he had freckles lining his cheeks, reminding you of stars on a dark night. He was well built, judging by the muscles that bulged out from his chest and arms. His legs were particularly strong-looking. If you looked close enough, you could just barely see the hints of scars sticking out from under his clothes. 

Behind him was a young woman dressed in a bubbly-looking white, pink, and black suit paired with pink boots. She was incredibly toned, muscles prevalent along her biceps. Her hair was long and brown, reaching the middle of her back. Big brown eyes stared right at you, hair tousled all over her face, as she peeked out from behind the green-haired man. A sort of eye guard rested on her head. 

You made direct eye contact with the man, who broke out into the brightest smile you had ever seen in your life. 

The apparently number one pro-hero exclaimed your name and grinned at you, relief and happiness flooding over his features as he stepped further into the room. Your parents looked at each other—you knew they were doing that annoying telepathic communication thing they always did when you were a kid—and you momentarily glanced at them to take note of their looks of unease, before focusing your attention back on to the unfamiliar man in front of you who continued to walk to your bedside. "Y-you're awake! How do you feel?" 

You just stayed silent, looking at the man and the woman behind him with calculating eyes. Something seemed to change in his expression as he observed you and his smile dropped slightly, his eyes taking on a more cautious look.

"Deku," the bubbly woman behind the man suddenly spoke up. You furrowed your brows, having not heard the name 'Deku' anywhere before. Not that you remembered anyways. "I think something is—"

"Sorry," you unintentionally interrupted the woman, tilting your head to the side to squint at the two other strangers in your room. "Do I.... know you?" 

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki #bakugou #reader insert #bnha #mha #fuck im so tired #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #fanfic #anime #fmnkb #bnha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #dekuuUUUU

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [7] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.5k+

mentions: second pov, fem reader, pro hero au, ankle injury

part six     part eight

You were tired. 

So, so tired.

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been walking, but it seemed like days. Weeks. Months. Of course, in reality, you probably only walked for half a day, maybe more. But your exhaustion, so deep and agonizing, made it seem much, much longer. 

Upon escaping from the damn facility, you walked until your legs gave out. Until you panted heavily from overexertion, bringing you down to one knee. Until you grunted out from the pain that ran steadily up and down the barely supportive muscles of your calves. The bag you had packed with items for the sleeping baby in your arms felt much heavier than it had a few hours ago. It was straining your back and already injured limbs. It was difficult to even hold the child, your arms trembling slightly to keep it tucked into your chest. 

You sighed out shakily, sitting down in the shade of a tree and tossing the bag off your shoulders. Grass and leaves tickled the exposed sections of your legs that weren't covered by the lab coat. You rested your arm on your lap, bringing it some slight reprieve from holding the little babe up for all those hours. Honestly, you were slightly surprised you managed to make it so far in your condition. You were even more surprised that there were no lab-coat wearing idiots chasing after you. Surely they must have noticed you were missing by now? Either way, you weren't complaining. It made everything a bit easier. A bit.

The sun was just barely peeking through the dense ceiling of the tree leaves, a small chill flowing through the air letting you know it was getting dark. The quiet laid over the forest like a thick blanket, interrupted ever so often by a bird or a rustle. You edged a bit closer to the tree, nestling down into a small corner to protect you from any eyes with malicious intent. You needed a break. Just a small one. Enough for the ground to stop spinning every time you took a step.

Glancing down at the child in your arms, your eyes softened slightly at the sight of the poor thing sleeping. It wasn't a hassle to take care of it, thank god. It had only woken up a few times as you stumbled your way through thick roots and shrubs. Then it was back to sleep. You supposed if it was hungry it would have started bawling its eyes out by now. You adjusted the little hat on its head before wrapping it snuggly in its blanket. At least it wouldn't be cold. Or hungry for that matter. You couldn't say the same for yourself.

You kicked off the shoes on your feet, groaning slightly as the tendons and muscles ached in them. Your feet kept sliding in the shoes every time you walked. It made them sore, and you swore the injuries on your feet had reopened as a result, though you couldn't tell with the slowly darkening atmosphere. In fact, you were certain you had reopened some of your wounds, a slight wet feeling encompassing your back and arms. You needed to get to civilization fast. At this rate you would probably end up dead somewhere. 

But first, some rest. 

It wouldn't do you any good to exhaust yourself down to the point of no return. 

You snuggled in closer to the baby, curling over it slightly as you wrapped the lab coat more comfortably around your body. You really should have thought out your escape better. But there was no time. 

And at least if you couldn't survive, then you'd make sure the baby could. 

You woke up to the sound of crying.

It startled you into a sitting position, your eyes blearily darting around in the dark before swiveling down to look at the bundle of blankets that still rested in your arms. The moonlight that managed to filter through the leaves allowed you to see your surroundings, if only a little. At least it wasn't pitch black. Your neck was slightly sore from being tilted for god-knows-how-long as you slept. You shook your head to get rid of the bit of stiffness you felt, before gently rocking the baby back and forth in your arms. 

"There, there," you spoke in a hushed voice, reaching out to the bag to pull it closer. "I'm here, shhh, don't cry." Multitasking was difficult. You steadily rocked the child back and forth in one arm, while with the other, you opened the bag and pulled out an empty bottle. Glancing down at the child, you watched as it continued to cry, chest heaving as tears leaked out of its scrunched up eyes. You murmured out words to it as you struggled to open one of the heated insulators with one hand, balancing the open bottle on the ground to pour in the liquid. You then opened one of the powdered milk formulas and scooped out the instructed amount, closing the bottle and using one hand to shake it gently. 

"Shhh.” You looked back down to the baby as its cries started to quiet down a little. It blinked a few times, looking up at you with dark, watery eyes. Your expression softened as you wiped the bottom of the bottle and squirted a small amount of the artificial milk inside on your exposed hand, to make sure it was the right temperature. Perfect. "That's it, come on."

With little coaxing, the baby opened its mouth to take in the nub of the bottle, greedily sucking down the liquid. You let out a sigh, resting back against the tree as you stared out at your surroundings. 

The forest was quiet, a distant hooting coming from somewhere above you. The leaves occasionally rustled with the breeze that made your exposed arms break out in goosebumps. You glanced about, making sure there was nothing lurking in the shadows. While you were glad there was nothing near that would do you harm, you still didn't know where the hell you were, exactly. You hoped you would find a road soon, or just anything in general to let you know that you weren’t just aimlessly wandering around. 

Though the nap was needed, it didn't make you feel any better. You probably only got a bit more than a few hours of sleep. Your headache was thankfully not as severe as it was before, and your wounds dimmed down to a dull throbbing. But you still felt exhausted. Your back hurt from being on the hard ground for so long, and when you looked down at your stretched out legs, you saw the bandages were stained in red and dirty from the soil. 

Another sigh escaped your lips. You needed to persevere. You had to. 

Grunting out, you hoisted yourself onto your feet, struggling slightly to stand up while not dropping the baby. A gasp left your lips as you stumbled up, shaking out your legs to get rid of the numbness and slipping your feet back into your (stolen) shoes. Removing the bottle from the baby's lips for a moment (it let out a small cry, lips trembling as it watched you), you closed up the bag with your free hand and slung it over your shoulder once more, looking around to make sure you hadn't dropped anything, before continuing on your way. The bottle returned to the babe's lips, and it continued to eat, eyelids drooping down. 

And so, the skeleton of a routine was established. You would walk until you felt exhausted, then sit down and rest for a bit, sometimes drifting off into sleep. Once you rested enough, you'd check on the baby to see if anything was wrong, and continue on your way through the forest, looking for areas where the trees weren't as dense. 

You were hungry. Starving. You hadn't eaten anything in the longest while, and you kept yourself from dehydration by taking a few sips of water from a bottle you'd nagged from the baby's room. But you had to limit yourself. You didn't want to waste your restricted resources on yourself when you had a child to take care of. It was hard. Harder than anything you could have ever done. And you just felt like curling into a ball in a small corner and crying until you no longer felt such a heavy burden on your chest. 

But you couldn't let yourself do so, no matter how compelled you felt. 

It seemed like forever until you finally stumbled across a road, seeing it beyond the lining of trees. Your heart leapt up to your throat, eyes widening as you picked up the pace to make your way out of the forest. So caught up in wanting to escape, you missed the jagged tree root that stuck out from between a few shrubs, your right foot catching on it. The fact that you were wearing oversized shoes didn't help you one bit, and you felt your ankle twist sharply to the side, a pained grunt leaving your lips as you fell. 

You just barely managed to toss yourself on your side to avoid landing on the child in your arms, crashing onto the dirt-covered ground in a way that made your head spin. You gripped the baby tightly in your arms, protecting it from the impact. A gasp left your mouth, the bag that had been on your right shoulder digging into your side since you had landed on it. The baby started to cry, roused from its slumber and shaken slightly at what had transpired. You felt like crying alongside it.

Everything hurt. You had long since used the second syringe of clear liquid to help you get rid of all the pain and exhaustion. Its effects were starting to wear down; you could feel a dull throbbing coming from all the various injuries along your body. And now that your ankle was twisted—probably sprained—you didn't think you'd be able to walk too far without collapsing.

A long, shaky sigh exited your lips, followed by a grunt as you lifted yourself into a sitting position. Your eyes immediately sought the baby in your arms, its cries echoing around you. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby..." you hushed down at it, tears lining your eyes as you saw the angry red scratch on its forehead. You lifted up a trembling hand and attempted to adjust the tiny hat properly on its head, since it had slipped off a bit. You both looked disheveled and dirty. You hoped the baby didn't have any other open wounds. Infection would be extremely difficult to deal with at this time.

Glancing down at your legs, which were stretched out in front of you, you grimaced at your ankle, which was twisted in an odd way. It ached, every small shift you made seemed like a hot strike of pain. With a frustrated sound coming from your lips, you looked up to peer through the trees, cursing at the sight of the road just out of reach. You just needed to get there. Then you could either continue walking, or wait for someone to pass by. 

Though, the odds of the latter happening were very slim.

You just sat there for a moment, catching your breath and trying to ignore your ankle while soothing down the babe in your arms. But when it was apparent that it wouldn't stop hurting (at least, not for a while), you decided to get up. It took a while, with lots of pauses and stifled groans of pain, but you managed to stand on your two feet. Most of your weight was distributed to your left leg as you leaned heavily on it, flinching every time your right foot touched the ground. 

The baby was awake in your arms, looking up at you with wide, bright eyes and letting out a babble ever so often. You forced down another pained groan, smiling shakily at the little thing. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" You weren't sure if you were referring to yourself or to the baby. 

The first few steps were terrible. You now had a heavy limp that made the bag on your shoulder sway from side to side. But thankfully, you only needed a few more steps to finally break away from the forest edge, a wisp of wind brushing past your sweaty face. You clumsily stood at the side of the two-way road, looking down both ways. It was desolate. Quiet. There weren't even any signs nearby that could tell you of a nearby village. You cursed to yourself, squinting up at the sky to glower at the rising sun. Great. 

You didn't know what to do. Keep moving, or just stop and wait? You didn't want to risk having to wait for too long, especially with your injuries getting worse as time went on. So you turned to face your left and marched on, albeit a bit clumsily. You tried your best not to jostle too much from side to side, not wanting to disturb the baby. But it didn't seem to mind, looking up at you with wide bright eyes and letting out a babble or coo now and then. You busied yourself with making some small talk with it, trying to distract yourself from the pain. It only slightly worked.

It seemed like forever until you stumbled across a sign, with directions that said the nearest gas station was a mile away. Perspiration slid slowly down the side of your face, your chest heaving as wheezes forced themselves from your mouth. The sun was just starting to strike heavily against you, bathing you in a heat that only increased as time went on. Another sigh escaped your lips before you stumbled onto the ground within the shade of the sign. 

Dark spots danced in front of your eyes, a low throbbing resonating in your head. Words could not describe the turbulent feelings—physical and mental—you were experiencing at this moment. You leaned against one of the cool metal legs of the sign, cradling the baby close to your chest as your eyes slipped down involuntarily, your body too exhausted to keep up any longer. 

You didn't hear the car speeding down the road.

Didn't hear it come to a screeching stop near the sign, the doors opening in rushed fervor.

Didn't hear the exclamations of surprise, the loud shout of "Oh my, is that pro-hero Réalité!? It is! Hurry, she needs a hospital!" 

Didn't feel yourself being carried to the car, which soon screeched away from the sign, the speedometer increasing drastically with every second.

Didn't hear the shouts, the rustling of footsteps, the stifled gasps, as you arrived at the nearest hospital and your saviors called for help. 

Didn't see the shocked expressions and the cameras that pointed in your direction while you were wheeled in a gurney into the hospital. 

And you didn't remember

a

single

thing.

#bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #reader insert #x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fmnkb

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [1] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader 

word count: 3.0k+

mentions: pro-hero au, fem reader, second pov, see masterlist for more info, trigger warnings for kidnapping, manipulation

masterlist     part two

There was this incessant clicking noise somewhere near your right ear.

It bothered you, so sharp and quick that it started to make your head hurt. Click click click click. Just nonstop. As you felt yourself slowly float toward the edges of consciousness, you were able to grasp onto your surroundings. A feeble one, but a grasp nonetheless. All around you was a never ending darkness and you felt yourself let out a grunt, moving your head to the side ever so slightly. Your eyes were closed, you realized a few moments after, your mind so sluggish that you felt you were wading through a thick room of mud. 

A small groan left your lips as you squinted your eyes open, before quickly shutting them at the light that harshly surrounded you. It was so blinding. So annoying. After squeezing your eyes shut for a few minutes, you opened them again, letting your pupils adjust to the lighting and blinking away the blurriness from your eyes. It took a moment, but you soon found yourself lazily dragging your gaze around the small, square room you were in, your mind not yet caught up.

It was bleak, mostly empty. Painted a white color that only made the lights even brighter. White tiles were arranged on the floor and the walls themselves looked to be made of a sort of steel. You looked around again, noticing that you were in a wooden chair. A dull throb came from your wrists and ankles, and you looked down to see you were chained down. A white tank top and black shorts covered your person. You didn't have shoes on. The floor was cool against your skin. You struggled a little, wincing at the pain that dug itself into your muscles. Biting down on your lip, you forced yourself to wake up—your environment was quite alarming, along with the situation you found yourself in. 

What..... What was happening?

Where were you?

It all confused you to no end. Your memory was still a bit foggy—you couldn't remember anything past waking up just a few moments prior. Now that you were awake, you could feel a dull throbbing in your head along with a slight sting all over your arms, which were covered in bandages. You puffed out a breath of air, causing a few loose strands of hair in front of your face to fan outwards and making you realize another bandage was on your cheek. The clicking continued. 

Click click click click click. 

You turned your head, a narrow gaze decorating your features as you located the source of the clicking. A camera blinked at you from the top of the wall in front of you, a red light turning on and off to the same speed as the clicks. Your eyes trailed along the wires attached to the camera, taking note of the small speakers that were in the corners of the room. 

Letting out a small grunt again, you tried to tug at the chains around your wrists, but they did not relent. With a huff, you instead looked in front of you, a poster greeting your eyes that you had not noticed before. You stared at it curiously. A man was posed on it, fist covered in some black glove aimed at the viewer. He had spiky ash-blond hair, reminiscent of a porcupine's, nestled on top of a sharply angled face. He was certainly well-built, his black and orange hero suit vaguely outlining his broad chest and shoulders, along with a small waist that had a utility belt tucked around it. Striking crimson eyes glared at you from behind a slightly ripped black mask, a frown heavy on his face. In the top right corner of the poster was the word “DYNAMIGHT” written in bold black letters, with an orange outline around them. 

Just as you traced your eyes over the unfamiliar poster again, the sudden crackle of a P.A. system resonated in the room and made you jump slightly. Your eyes darted around, locating the camera, before a deep, hoarse voice of an unknown figure echoed around you. 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname]," the voice said without emotion. Your eyes narrowed as something at the far recesses of your mind tingled with familiarity. "And you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you opened your mouth to ask "Why?” but before you could utter a word, the same sentence was repeated. Again, and again, and again. 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight."

The same line, repeated over. Echoing in your ears. At first, you ignored it, instead electing to try to struggle out of your bonds and scan the room for possible exits. Whatever was going on, you didn't like it. Not one bit. It made you feel unsafe. You needed to get out of here. God knows how long you’d been in this room. You couldn't... quite... remember anything. But you were sure your memories would eventually come back to you. 

Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you were going to get the hell out of here. 

The more you tugged at the binds, the tighter they seemed to get, until you were sure they were practically cutting off circulation. You gave up after a bit of struggling, instead turning your attention to the door that rested against the wall to you right. It blended in with the wall, being made of the same steel material. The only thing that let you know it was a door, were the engravings of the hinges. You stared at it, taking note that there was no doorknob. On your side anyways. 

You let your head fall back and promptly groaned. Your mind reeled with ways in which you could possibly escape, but none of them seemed feasible. The only thing, you thought, that could be done now, was to wait. Just wait. You weren't sure how long you would last in the room. The more you looked around, the smaller the room seemed to be and the heavier your breathing became. You closed your eyes for a moment, but once you did, you felt a sharp tingle race up your arms and legs. 

It jolted you into an upright position. It didn't hurt too badly, but it gave enough zing to keep you awake. You craned your head downwards to look at your feet, suddenly realizing that another glowing red dot blinked up at you, signifying that the device around your ankles was quite capable of administering a hearty shock. You bit back a curse and decided to close your eyes again, just to make sure. Immediately after, another shock (this time a bit harsher), raced up and down your muscles. 

It seemed as though you would not be able to sleep this time around.

Someone wanted to keep you awake. 

You didn't know exactly how long you sat there, but it seemed like hours. You indeed regained your memories; they were just slow in waking up. The last thing you remembered was stepping outside of your apartment to make your way to Best Jeanist's agency. You worked as a sidekick for him, ever since you graduated a year ago. You were supposed to get there early to meet some of his past interns, who were going to be introduced as new fellow sidekicks. 

Well... Looking at your current situation, you probably never managed to meet them anyways.

You hoped someone noticed you were gone. 

You couldn't really remember getting kidnapped in itself—if you're assuming that that's what happened—but you supposed it didn't matter now anyways with your position. A sigh escaped your lips as your ears were attacked constantly by the repetitive drone of the monotonous voice of the man. You busied yourself with staring at the poster, seeing as it was the only thing vaguely interesting in this room. The longer you stared at it, the more it seemed to move on its own. Perhaps you were just imagining things.  

The clicking continued on. 

Click click click click click.

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Kat—"

With the sound of a record being scratched, the voice suddenly stopped repeating, making you lift your head up from its lowered position. Messy locks of hair framed a gaunt face. Your vision was blurry, an odd high-pitched noise ringing in your ears. Your eyes itched, head thrummed. How long had it been? Hours? Days? You weren't sure, but your throat was dry to the point that it hurt to swallow, eyes begging to close, only for your body to get a painful shock. You almost didn't hear the door open, the tapping of footsteps on tile greeting your ears. 

Your eyes swiveled up blearily to stare at the figure clad in white that appeared in front of you. You squinted up at him; he looked to be a doctor, with a lab coat covering his figure, paired with dark jeans and a black turtleneck under that. He had a grey doctor's mask on, concealing most of his face, along with glasses that allowed you to see two green eyes, almost phosphorescent in nature. A full set of dark hair was slightly messed up on his head, and he clasped his gloved hands in front of him, a clipboard tucked under one of his arms. 

"Miss, wonderful to see you awake and well," he hummed, a somewhat deep voice greeting your ears. "How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?" 

Your eyes narrowed, your head lifting to make eye contact with the man. Immediately, a zap went through your body, harsh enough that you leaned forward and grunted. Your head exploded with pain, eyes watering with the sensation of a hammer pounding on the crown of your head as though you were a metal nail. 

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm afraid you cannot use your quirk in this position." The doctor tilted his head at your curled form. "The sensors we have attached to your head will detect that." You didn't even feel anything stuck to your head. "Though, you probably cannot use your quirk anyways..." 

"Just who... are you?" you bit out, raising your head to glare at the man. Your voice was hoarse and you needed to cough a little, trying to wet your lips. Your breathing was slightly labored. You tugged a little at your binds around your hands. "What do you want?" 

"Who am I?" He hummed again, making a note on his clipboard. "I am Doctor Shin, Miss. Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?"

"What the fuck do you want??" you only repeated, fixing a harsh glare on him. The doctor raised an eyebrow, lowering his hands and stepping closer to your seated form. Alarms went off in your head at his presence, and you remained cautious. 

"Vulgar as always," he muttered, making another note. "Don't worry, I'm just going to check a few things." 

Against your will—though you couldn't really do anything with how weak you felt—the doctor prodded at your arms, lifting up some of the bandages to check, and messing with something attached to your head. He then pressed his index finger to the middle of your forehead, a small white glow coming from the tip. You tried to stare at it as best as you could, but you suddenly felt exhausted just as the man let out another hum. 

"Ah, six years, how interesting," was his only statement as he removed his finger and wrote something down. You looked at him in confusion, but he just ignored you. You probably wouldn't be getting any answers out of him anytime soon, but you could try. 

"What do you want with me?" you asked again, persistent in getting an answer from him. Doctor Shin only quirked an eyebrow and continued to make notes. "Why can't I use my quirk?" 

There were a few seconds of silence as he continued to write. Then he answered, not looking up at you. "I can't answer that, I'm afraid. The boss wants to keep you in the dark." He reached into his pocket to take out a small flashlight. Clicking it on, he motioned at you to raise your head up, and you obliged reluctantly. He shined the light into your right eye, watching the pupil shrink. "Though, you are here for a greater cause. Your presence will help the advancements of technology! Isn't that exciting?" 

You furrowed your brows, not believing him. Certainly there were other ways to help advancing technology without being placed in such a tense situation? You were having a hard time believing him. "And my quirk?"

He switched to your other eye. "Well your inability to use it is just a side effect. Don't worry." A side effect of what? You were going to ask, but he started writing again and stepped away. Your mind reeled with all the new information you were being presented with, a sinking feeling nestling itself in your gut. You watched the doctor tuck the clipboard under his arm, before pointing to the poster. "Do you know who this is?" 

You turned your gaze to the ash-blond man on the poster, your attempt to swallow suddenly reminding you how thirsty you were. You eyed the doctor warily, wondering if you should ask, before deciding to hell with it. "May I have a glass of water?" 

"No," he replied, and the skin around his eyes crinkled in a way that told you he was smiling, though his eyes were reminiscent of ice cubes. "I won't ask the question again." 

You let out a huff, squinting your eyes at the poster. "That's Dynamight, otherwise known as Bakugou Katsuki. Or so I've been told." You couldn’t help the sarcasm.

"Yes," he responded, tilting his head slightly. He shifted his feet. "Do you recall anything about him?" 

You stared at him blankly for a bit, then pursed your lips, trying to make sense of the tingle of familiarity in the far recesses of your mind. "He... He goes to U.A. doesn't he? Actually he should have graduated by now. I dunno, I've never met him." 

"Ah. That's correct," Doctor Shin replied in a pleased manner as he made another note. He watched you with a calculated look, making you suddenly feel self conscious of your answers. You told the truth—you really didn't know much about the man except that he went to U.A. and was involved with the Kamino Ward incident a few years ago. He was kidnapped, wasn't he? You weren't sure, your memory was still struggling to eradicate the few patches of fog in your mind. "Listen to me carefully Miss: you hate him."

"I hate him," you repeated in slight confusion, remembering the voice that drilled itself into your mind earlier. Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate Bakugou Katsuki. Your head hurt. You wanted to know why. God, your head hurt.

"Yes, you despise him," the doctor confirmed, watching you carefully. Your eyes were slightly glazed over, but you blinked it away. The clicking hadn't stopped. 

Click click click click click.

"Why do I hate him?" you asked, narrowing your gaze. You needed an explanation. You didn't even know him, no, you didn't know him. Why did [Name] [Surname] hate Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight?

Doctor Shin let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Your hair tickled your exposed neck, but you couldn't brush it away. "Seems like you still have doubt. Ah, no matter, we'll get rid of it soon enough." Your eyes followed his form as he walked over to the door, which was partly open, and handed the clipboard to someone. You couldn't see who it was, no matter how much you strained your eyes and neck. He then pulled a metal cart into the room, which rattled with every turn of the wheel. 

Your eyes were glued onto the cart, taking note of the surgical items on top of it. Scalpels, needles, tubes, knives, a strange device that looked like a corkscrew, and numerous other sharp, metal instruments. You felt your throat get drier than it was previously, and you struggled against the bonds tying your wrists in a last minute attempt to escape. Dread pooled in your stomach, your heart beating so fast it seemed like it would run right out of your chest. 

Your breathing got heavier while you watched the doctor straighten his gloves and pick up a tube filled with a light blue liquid. He unwrapped one of the needles and attached it to the tube to make a syringe. The mere length of the needle made your eyes darken, a sense of foreboding coming forth. This did not mean well for you. The P.A. system crackled back to life with the same sentence from before.

The doctor turned around, meeting your eyes with his own that seemed to glow slightly. They were so cold. So much colder than before. You didn't like it—it made your stomach churn with unpleasantness. Oh god, someone help you. You couldn't fight him in this state. Your body was too weakened, mind too fragile. You couldn't use your quirk. He approached you, positioning the needle in his hand to inject your arm. His eyes darted to the camera positioned in the corner of the room, (the red light was still blinking back), before coming back to lock onto your own.

"Fret not Miss," he hummed in that voice of his that suddenly seemed much, much darker. "For once we're done here, you'll absolutely loathe Bakugou Katsuki."

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bnha #mha bakugou #mha #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #lmao i'm lowkey excited for this #slow updates ig #pls read #pls #also comment i love that shit #set in the future btw #fmnkb

[sipsteainanxiety]

forget me not [2] || katsuki b.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 3.2k+

mentions: fem reader, second pov, pro hero au, trigger warnings for torture, needles, blood, gore, pain. it's only in this chapter and implied / referenced in others, dwai

part one    part three

"Repeat after me Miss: Bakugou Katsuki is my enemy." 

Your teeth gritted together, pain crawling its way up your arms and legs. You were confused, lost, and most importantly, scared. You weren't sure exactly how long you had been tied up in this damned chair, but it was long enough that you no longer felt your wrists and ankles. Though that was the least of your worries at the moment. Doctor Shin loomed over you, a scalpel smeared in the dark red color of blood positioned in his right hand. You felt immensely weakened, labored breaths and partly lidded eyes the only indication that you were still alive and conscious.

Your upper arm felt numb, a dull throb coming from it as the so-called 'doctor' had injected the needle filled with the light blue liquid in that area. You didn't know what it did to you, but you really did not want to find out—it would only make you more anxious. Though, it was hard to ignore the slight stifle you felt at the front of your mind. It was like someone was pressing a pillow against your neurons, preventing them from successfully firing information to each other. You didn't like it, and to top it all, every time you attempted to use your quirk—or even thought about it—you received a hearty zap. Ah well, you were too weak to do anything anyways. 

You scoffed internally—you were useless. Frail. Unable to help yourself in this very situation. How were you to be a full-time pro-hero if you couldn't even save yourself from this torture?

"I'm waiting Miss," Doctor Shin hummed out as though he had asked you to recount your daily troubles in some fucked up version of a therapy session.

You slowly rolled your eyes up to glance at him, breathing becoming more labored as time went on. "Baku... Bakugou Kat... Katsuki...." Every syllable took all the effort you could manage to bring it past your lips. You struggled with your breaths for a moment, and your prolonged response seemed to make the doctor disappointed—if that was what you could call it. 

"How unfortunate," he tutted, and before you could register anything you felt a sharp pain on your forearm once again, the silver scalpel in his hand slicing its way through the muscles of your arm. You groaned out, biting down harshly on your lower lip to prevent a scream from coming out. Warm liquid, dark and foreboding, dripped down your skin like water running along pavement. The taste of salted metal filled your mouth as your teeth broke through the inside of your lip, shredding the skin there to practical pieces. 

You felt the metal recede from your arm for a moment, bringing you temporary relief, though you felt as though each and every cell of your body was on fire. Your chest heaved and you forced your eyelids open (you hadn't even realized when they shut) to blink at the ground. It was blurred out by the pain and unshed tears that had built up in your eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to let them run freely just yet. 

The recording from earlier played continuously in the background, never ceasing. Always there. 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname], and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

Click click click click click.

You glanced up at the doctor, who was setting the scalpel down on the cart. The cart that was smeared in your blood, the very tools that came in so pristine and clean, covered in the thick liquid of death. You couldn't focus clearly, so blinded and overwhelmed by the bursts of fire, of agony that raced along your limbs. You could hardly breathe. God, someone help you. Your head hurt. Your head hurt. 

Doctor Shin looked at you, your hair matted with blood plastered to your skin. The white tank top you were previously wearing, now stained in a dark hue that teetered on the edge of black and a deep burgundy. Your fingers were bleeding, the nails having been plucked right from their beds. Your ears leaked blood, the devices attached to them occasionally administering an electrical zap when triggered. Your very legs had these holes in them, shaped in a pattern of a cork, and digging so deep into your flesh that if one were to look close enough, they would see the whites of your bone. 

There was so much blood it was a wonder how you hadn't fainted yet. 

He glanced at the arm with that he had been carving a little message into, before picking up a larger knife from the cart, along with a lighter. Flicking it open and pressing on a small switch, he ignited it before hovering the knife over it. Phosphorescent green eyes looked down at you without emotion. "Now repeat after me Miss: Bakugou Katsuki is my enemy." 

A small gurgle came from your lips, blood spilling over to drip onto your lap. As you opened your mouth, a bubble of red emerged, growing larger and larger until it popped, a sound that seemed to echo around the brightly lit room. Your chest heaved, head dropping forward as your body started to convulse. Stress and pain in addition to continuous electrical stimulation to the brain invoked a response akin to an epileptic episode, making your body lurch forward and back in the chair. 

The doctor let out a sigh, watching as you let out pained grunts, your eyes having already rolled to the back of your head. Your face was on the way to turning a deep blue color. He leisurely set down the knife and lighter, before reaching into his lab coat to pull out another syringe. This one was full of a clear liquid. Attaching a needle to it, he gave it a flick before plunging it into the same area he had injected the previous one, pushing down on the stopper until the entirety of the substance had entered your body. 

Within a few minutes, your body stopped shaking, your breathing coming out in short gasps that he fixed by moving your body around in the chair so that it no longer leaned forward. Your face pointed up to the ceiling and returned to its normal shade, your hair falling onto your shoulders and closed eyes that he brushed away. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed a small notepad out of the pocket near his chest and quickly scribbled something down. 

You let out a raspy breath, choking slightly on the air that entered your mouth before your eyes slowly opened once again. Though your heart was no longer racing, you still felt completely worn down, pain shooting across your limbs and the same stifled feeling in your head moving down to your chest. Your very heart ached, and you let out a few more coughs. Everything hurt. It pained you to move your pupils around to focus on the man beside you, and for a moment, you forgot why exactly you were here. Stuck in this damned chair. But it all returned eventually. And you wished it hadn't. 

"Quite a reaction you had there, though I must say it was somewhat inevitable," Doctor Shin murmured out, tucking the small notebook back into his pocket and sliding his pen into his dark hair. You only stared at him, watching, for you could not possibly muster up the energy to respond. Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, numb and foreign. "Have you learned your lesson yet?" 

"Your name is [Name] [Surname] and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Dynamight." 

You heaved in a deep breath, hearing it rattle in your chest and attempted to open your lips once more. It brought you immense pain to do so, but you persevered, finding that you needed to tell him an important message. "Sh... Shut..." The doctor lifted a single eyebrow at you, leaning in closer as though that would help him hear your already weakened voice. "Shut the.... f... fu...ck up..." 

For a moment there was silence where they only looked at each other. Then, Doctor Shin let out a small chuckle, turning to the cart. Your eyelids threatened to close, but another hearty shock raced through your arms, making you shoot your unrelenting, inquisitive stare into the small of his back. 

"Well it appears you still have quite the resistance in you," he mused, fiddling with a few things on the cart that you couldn't see. "Though it confuses me as to why you do. Surely it would be much easier to relent, hm?" 

You mulled over his words that hazily made their way through your already foggy mind. You couldn't say it didn't confuse you either. You knew essentially nothing about the man named Bakugou Katsuki, apart from the fact he was apparently dead set on becoming a hero. Everyone was aware of that fact—he didn't go to U.A. for nothing, after all. Though it also confused you as to why the doctor was so determined to make you hate the man. Part of you already believed the words that came from his mouth, and god, the pain was so unbearable you practically depended on the words coming from the speakers to keep you grounded to reality instead of drifting off.

But, as you thought about it some more, you found that you couldn't possibly bring yourself to hate someone you didn't know. Your heart and mind just didn't allow it. It only befuddled you even more.

"Ah it doesn't matter anyways," Doctor Shin hummed out, turning around to look at you once more. He adjusted the mask—that had a splash of blood on it, not that it helped to ease your nauseated stomach—on his face before approaching your chair. "I think it's time I used a different tactic." 

Barely holding on to consciousness, you watched as the man removed the stained rubber gloves from his right hand, stretching out his fingers. You hadn't noticed before, but each of his fingers had a darkened circle on the tips. It must be due to his quirk, you concluded, and this was only confirmed when a red glow began to emit from his index finger. He loomed over you, shadows being cast over your face as his appendage began its descent toward the middle of your forehead. 

"Perhaps instead of hatred toward Bakugou Katsuki," he began, his eyes seeming to glow brighter than before as your heart started palpitating wildly, "it would be better to feel fear..."

A gasp startled you awake, your eyes shooting open. Dim lighting greeted you, and you swiftly shut your eyes again, finding that it only made your head pound. A small hiss escaped your lips as you curled up and pressed a hand against your right eye for a few moments. Everything hurt, though it wasn't as intense as before. It was more like a dull throb that only acted up harsher than before when you moved suddenly. Slowly, very slowly, you sat up, cursing once in a while when a shoot of pain raced along your body.

Taking another moment to steel yourself, you slowly opened your eyes, staring blearily around the room you were suddenly in. It wasn't the same one as before, clearly. Instead of an entirely white room, you found yourself in one made of grey. The steel that made up the walls was the color of clouds on a rainy day, the floors also made of grey tiles that were arranged neatly. Cleanly. It wasn't too small, nor too big, and shaped like a rectangle. A black metal door was on the wall right across from you, bars lining a small window near its top, while a small metal flap—that honestly reminded you of a doggy door—rested at the bottom. The only lighting you had was from the door, where it leaked through the window and hinges. 

You noticed you had been resting on a small bed, the mattress soft enough to bring somewhat of a comfort. Your clothes had been changed for a cleaner pair of sweats and a white tank top, no longer caked in blood. A thin, grey blanket covered your legs. Glancing at your arms, you realized they were all bandaged up completely, no skin showing whatsoever—even your fingers were wrapped. Moving your fingers along the rest of your body, you realized you were, quite literally, wrapped up like a mummy. The bandages coated your legs, most of your torso, and your neck. Your face had a small patch of cloth plastered on your forehead. 

You looked around some more, taking in the calm, quiet atmosphere. Occasionally, the pit-pattering of footsteps would pass by your door, fading away soon after. You were relieved to find that there were no cameras in the room itself, which brought up some confusion as you could still hear the steady click click click sounds from earlier. Apart from a bed, there was also a mirror on the wall to your left (your bed was propped along the right side), and a metal nightstand right next to you. On it was a glass of water and a few pills on a napkin. You weren't sure what the pills were for, but you would much rather not take them. 

Though you were slightly thankful you weren't being treated like complete shit—your kidnappers gave you a room, a bed, and went as far as to bandage you up, which confused you immensely, but you decided not to question it—you were still angry that you had been kidnapped in the first place. “Advancements in technology” your ass! You wanted to shove those words down the stupid doctor's throat. You were angry at yourself for letting them take you. Angry at all the pain you went through. Angry at the fact you were so fucking useless. 

God, you were going to make a pretty shit hero. 

A sigh escaped your lips, and you steadily threw the blanket off your legs, swinging them around slowly so that your bandaged feet met the cool ground. At least it was clean. Bleak, but clean. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not recognizing the face that stared back. Your hair was a rat's nest, all mangled and knotted. Dark bags lined your eyes, your skin seemingly stained perpetually in blood red. Scratches lined your cheeks, and you realized they were quite fresh, making you wonder if you had accidentally caused them in your sleep. Your lip was busted and in the middle of your forehead was a small circle. 

You couldn't exactly remember what happened before you fell unconscious. But you did remember the glow of green eyes, and a sudden searing pain that started from your head, and spread down along your body. It was like someone had shoved a long, poison-coated needle into your brain itself. So unbearable that you didn't even last even a few seconds in your weakened state. Your lip curled unpleasantly. 

Glancing around the room once more, you heaved yourself off the bed, not wanting to throw yourself a pity party any longer. Pain danced around your arms and legs, but you shook it off and instead grabbed the glass of water, finding that your throat was parched all of a sudden. It took you a while to grasp the glass, your fingers so weak that you couldn't do an average thing like pick up a damn drink. You had to hold it with both hands, tilting it into your mouth. The water was cool and refreshing and woke your mind up a bit more. 

Click click click click click.

Wiping your lips, you set the glass back down and turned to the door. Something next to it caught your eye, and you squinted at it before making your way toward it, limping slightly. As you neared the wall next to the door, you realized that a poster of Dynamight was plastered along it. You weren't sure how you didn't notice it upon waking, but the way his eyes seemed to glow an eerie crimson made an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. You couldn't look at it for more than a few minutes before getting the urge to regurgitate. 

Turning once more to the door, you approached it, standing on your toes slightly to peer through the window. Your hands grasped the small metal bars, cool against your bandaged skin. Peering through, you were met with another white wall that made up a hallway that stretched to your left and right. As far as you could tell, there was no one near your room, though upon glancing around the hall, you realized there was a camera somewhere to your left attached to the ceiling, a red dot blinking down at you. Damn. Well, you got some form of privacy, at least. 

It somewhat frustrated you that you were so resigned to the fact you were trapped here. After all, the only thing you did upon waking was look at the brighter side of things, which made you angrier. You shouldn't be in this mess in the first place! It was so unfair! You had your whole life ahead of you, and now, instead of a bright future, all you saw was a dark one. Imprisoned in this hell hole and submitted to torture until you could hardly stand to live. 

A growl escaped your lips, and you turned back to your bed, making your way to it only to step on something sharp. A hiss escaped your lips, and you looked down to see you had accidentally trodden on a metal nail. The damn thing practically blended in with the ground. Picking it up, you tossed it onto the nightstand before turning to your bed. Collapsing onto it, you propped yourself up so that you leaned against the bed head and stared up at the ceiling.

Focusing on a small dot you found, you tried to activate your quirk, only to let out a small yelp as a headache cleaved through your brain, making your curl into yourself, hands grasping at your hair. 

Fucking great. You couldn't even use your quirk. What a load of help that turned out to be. 

You could only hope that you hadn't lost your quirk forever—you knew there was such a thing as losing it, or rather, getting it stolen. Your eyes snapped shut upon feeling that familiar prickling sensation. No! You refused to cry and resign yourself to defeat. You were stronger than this. You had to be for your own sake. 

Another sigh escaped your lips. Glancing once more at your mirror, you noticed something on the wall next to you, reflected in the glass. Sitting up, you looked at the wall. Small lines were scratched into it, ranging in size. They looked like tally marks, and they were spread all across the wall. Your eyes widened and you began to count them. 

150 marks. 150 days.

That was approximately five months, give or take a few days. 

Dread started to pool in your stomach, unsure of who exactly made those marks. Did anyone else live in this room before you? Did they go through the same thing you did? Were you... Were you here longer than you remembered? 

No, it couldn't be. 

Either way, you thought to yourself, settling back down on your bed, you needed a plan. You had to get out of here.

The only problem was how.

#bakugou x reader #mha #bnha #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #slow ass updates hhshds #anime #fanfic #mha bakugou #my writing is so shitty i'm sorry #fmnkb