Synopsis: After years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights in medical school and residency, you’re offered the chance of a lifetime: a position as a physician in Japan. With the public interest in healthcare on the rise, the elite Medical Unit has just been established, and you don’t hesitate to accept.
You have a one-track mind: to excel. It’s expected. It’s career-focused. No distractions…until you cross paths with a certain blonde.
Note: This is highkey inspired by a post I read from @azzo0 where reader's a med student and I want to explore this profession for this short-chapter fic I'm cooking. I also want to take this time to say that reading the works of @ofmermaidstories , @andypantsx3 , @willowser , and @thetrashywritingwitch for literal YEARS actually pushed me to brush-off my writer's block and cultivate my writing skills. So if you see this, tysm muah <3 - from a not-so-popular fic author.
Enjoy!
“Pro Hero Dynamight surged from rank 15 to 5!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and proud, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from the television placed on the wall. Then, the screen pans to a familiar green-haired man, One for All Hero, Deku, speaking gently to the cheery live reporter as Dynamight stood by him, brooding as usual. It was the aftermath of a villain fight—a quick fight at that.
“They really got the public hooked, huh?” Dr. Miyano says before she shoves rice and curry into her mouth using the spoon she bought at a merchandise store, it was a minimalist design of Creati. The cafeteria was filled with chirpy health professionals—some were talking to each other, some watching TV, and some were ready for seconds as they stood up, went back to the cafeteria line, and already dished out their debit cards and IDs to be scanned.
“I’m not surprised,” you remarked, sloshing the ready-to-go glass of coffee you just ordered at the vending machine. Ever since the new generation of heroes rose, the crime rate plummeted and, of course, the heroes gained a shit ton of popularity, especially the U.A alumnis because they played key role in defeating Shigaraki and All for One, “they literally saved Japan and the whole world by extension.”
Lunch went by in a blur—literally because it’s only a 30-minute duration. You and Miyano walked into the physician’s lounge, greeting coworkers and putting the now-empty bentos in your respective lunch bags. “You think we’re gonna meet them?” Dr. Miyano says aloud, zipping her lunch bag.
You snide, “yeah, we’ll meet them one on one if we’re…A, we’re in the middle of a villain attack. B, we’re tending to them, and C, one of us is in the Medical Unit, which is a competitive sector. Totally easy.” you fix your white coat and apply lip gloss—you gotta atleast look presentable even though you were running on only two hours sleep from the damn graveyard shift you took last night. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” At that, you left the room to do your patient rounds, prescribe medicine in doctor appointments, and the like.
After your afternoon shift, you headed to a nice cafe—to unwind and do a quick email browse before you shut your damn brain off. Upon entering, you were met with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, calming your nerves. Soft jazz plays in the background as guests sink into plush chairs, sipping lattes and chatting beneath shelves lined with well-loved books. You greeted the barista, flashing a curt smile before stating your order, and this time, you added a pastry—you know, just to treat yourself after your tiring shift.
Sitting on a comfortable plush chair, you bring out your laptop, turn it on, and start browsing through your emails, double-checking to ensure you don’t miss a single damn thing. A notification popped up from your calendar: GUN SHOOTING RANGE at noon this Saturday. An open tab of an online shop that you’ve been browsing last night. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the window in thought. It’s easy to get burnt out when you overwork yourself, which you knew ever since you chose to be in pre-med during your undergraduate years. You honestly thought of being a hero, entering as a hero medic, but it was just never for you.
A familiar barista approaches you, holding a tray of your order, breaking you out of your stupor. You smile again as he places them on the cool wooden table. “Thanks. How’s the college thus far, Ben?” you ask.
“It’s ok! The Japanese literature class is lowkey kicking my ass.” he says, rubbing the back of his head, “Kinda started to question the major I chose, but how about you, doc? I remember you briefly brought up a Medical Unit application.”
Oh my fuck. I was literally avoiding to think about this shit, damnit. You’ve been doing a great job suppressing this feeling of what? Butterflies? No—it’s maggots, definitely. You stirred your drink, taking a sip to act unaffected, “It’s going to be released tomorrow.” You say as cool as a cucumber, but mentally? Oh girl, your mind is doing laps.
“Well, you’ll definitely get in! You’re one of the hardest-working doctors I’ve met. That’s not me trying to mooch off of you or anything. I’m just being truthful,”
“Thanks. I hope.” The conversation ended when one of his coworkers called his name, leaving you alone with your thoughts and idling laptop. After a while, you left, seemingly satisfied with the quick relaxation you had using public transit to head home.
The sun begins to set, coloring the sky a dark hue, and the stars start to fill up space, shining bright as you pressed a code to enter the condominium building. The place is neither super luxurious nor janky. Your condo is simple, yet spacious and affordable. Your mom really did make sure that you’re financially literate. You changed out of your work clothes, followed your nightly routine, and not giving a damn about the outside world. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep minutes after taking a melatonin pill.
-
“Ma, you don’t have to worry a goddamn thing. I’ll take care of it,” you grumble, phone placed by your ear, walking out of the train station with purpose, it’s early morning and your back hurts from the fuck ass mattress you slept on last night “I’ll pay for my little brother’s tuition. All I want from you is to relax! Goodness sake, I know you’re handling grandfather’s business, and it’s stressful. Just don’t worry about—” A public commotion cuts you off, “I’ll call you later.” You hang up, eye twitching because the short route you always go to is filled with crowds of people. It’s literally 7 am..what could be happening now?!
“Red Riot!! We love you!!” a man screams, people gushing over the unbreakable hero. The two police cars are there to put the handcuffed villain in the vehicle.
Red Riot chuckled, and you could just sense the signature panty-dropping shark-toothed grin he’d show to the public. Hell, even guys admit they have a crush on this guy and bought the Red Riot-themed calendar. As much as you would like to see the hero in person, you have work to do, so you briskly walk to a different path.
“Hey, miss!” his voice was loud, and you thought none of it until you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, and lo and behold. The hero stands before you. He’s tall as hell, clad in his hero uniform, “Oh..uh, doc, you dropped this.” he hands you your condo key.
Your brain buffered for a quick second, “Thanks,” you took the key, “I didn’t notice.”
“It’s okay!” he smiles, and it looked like he was expecting something from you, but eventually settled with, “hope you have a great day!”
“Yeah. You too..!” You walked away while the crowd went even wilder. You missed the way Dynamite arrived at the scene, red piercing eyes glancing at you before calling out to him in a raspy voice.
And at the physician’s lounge? You were surrounded by your colleagues, asking so many questions about your interaction with the hero.
“Omg, what was he like?”
“He’s so damn fine. Did you take pictures with him? An autograph?”
“Did you ask for his number?”
“I would sell my kidney for him.”
You admitted that you didn’t ask him for anything and just expressed appreciation for picking up your house key. Of course, they clowned you, but you just laughed it off. However, the atmosphere soon shifted as everyone received a message from the medical director’s assistant about a meeting. Your heart dropped outta your ass as everyone hurried to the big meeting room, feeling excited, nervous, and curious.
Once everyone is situated, the well-esteemed director, Dr. Lee, stands unwavering at the podium. That alone has every health professional sit up and take notice. His eyes were sharp behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Good Morning. As you are all aware, the Medical Unit has announced the results for the top three ‘pillars’.” He paused for dramatic effect, and it didn’t fail. Everyone stilled; it was pure silence. You seriously heard someone gulp behind you, and you fight the urge to bite your fingernails. Fuck.
“And I’ve received a memo that one of you was chosen out of the thousands of applicants across Japan,” he continues, “It is commendable and we couldn’t be any prouder.” his assistant comes up to him, handing a small envelope. The silence stretches, and the tension is palpable. You literally felt all your senses shutting down like you’re astral projecting. “The Medical Unit is a new sector that integrates medicine in not just the hero world, but also the general, support, and management courses. This cultivates an expansive understanding.” The rest of Dr. Lee’s explanation of the Medical unit became static to you, in exchange of mulling over your brave choice of applying.
It’s not like you’re not confident in your abilities. Hell, you managed to get into a top medical school. You’re well-rounded and you know the ropes. You’ve dealt with the real shit outside academics, molding you into a strong professional that you are today…It’s just that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have their way of making you overthink and compare yourself to others. Are your credentials enough? Is this laughable? Are you stupid for believing that you have a shot at this? All you want is to excel in life and thrive. Maybe be someone in this world. Make a mark that influences those around you…
All of your thoughts dissipated when you felt a nudge on your arm from Miyano, “Dude. dude.”
“..huh?” You blinked, and all of a sudden, you felt all eyes on you, including the medical director, whose eyebrow was raised. Your eyes dart everywhere, making eye contact with everyone.
“I assume you’re Dr. L/N.” Dr. Lee’s voice echoes.
“Yes. I am,” you said aloud, not showing any weakness. Eyes resolved. Posture assertive and ready, bracing yourself to be told that you’re rejected from the Medical Unit.
“Congratulations.”
And that was not something you’re ready for.
Thank you for reading! Oh and I totes enjoy feedback, asks, anything!!! Keep an eye out for updates! Oh and if anyone wants to be added on my tag list, lmk!!! My ao3 is flrtt
Synopsis: After years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights in medical school and residency, you’re offered the chance of a lifetime: a position as a physician in Japan. With the public interest in healthcare on the rise, the elite Medical Unit has just been established, and you don’t hesitate to accept.
You have a one-track mind: to excel. It’s expected. It’s career-focused. No distractions…until you cross paths with a certain blonde.
Note: This is highkey inspired by a post I read from @azzo0 where reader's a med student and I want to explore this profession for this short-chapter fic I'm cooking. I also want to take this time to say that reading the works of @ofmermaidstories , @andypantsx3 , @willowser , and @thetrashywritingwitch for literal YEARS actually pushed me to brush-off my writer's block and cultivate my writing skills. So if you see this, tysm muah <3 - from a not-so-popular fic author.
Enjoy!
“Pro Hero Dynamight surged from rank 15 to 5!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and proud, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from the television placed on the wall. Then, the screen pans to a familiar green-haired man, One for All Hero, Deku, speaking gently to the cheery live reporter as Dynamight stood by him, brooding as usual. It was the aftermath of a villain fight—a quick fight at that.
“They really got the public hooked, huh?” Dr. Miyano says before she shoves rice and curry into her mouth using the spoon she bought at a merchandise store, it was a minimalist design of Creati. The cafeteria was filled with chirpy health professionals—some were talking to each other, some watching TV, and some were ready for seconds as they stood up, went back to the cafeteria line, and already dished out their debit cards and IDs to be scanned.
“I’m not surprised,” you remarked, sloshing the ready-to-go glass of coffee you just ordered at the vending machine. Ever since the new generation of heroes rose, the crime rate plummeted and, of course, the heroes gained a shit ton of popularity, especially the U.A alumnis because they played key role in defeating Shigaraki and All for One, “they literally saved Japan and the whole world by extension.”
Lunch went by in a blur—literally because it’s only a 30-minute duration. You and Miyano walked into the physician’s lounge, greeting coworkers and putting the now-empty bentos in your respective lunch bags. “You think we’re gonna meet them?” Dr. Miyano says aloud, zipping her lunch bag.
You snide, “yeah, we’ll meet them one on one if we’re…A, we’re in the middle of a villain attack. B, we’re tending to them, and C, one of us is in the Medical Unit, which is a competitive sector. Totally easy.” you fix your white coat and apply lip gloss—you gotta atleast look presentable even though you were running on only two hours sleep from the damn graveyard shift you took last night. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” At that, you left the room to do your patient rounds, prescribe medicine in doctor appointments, and the like.
After your afternoon shift, you headed to a nice cafe—to unwind and do a quick email browse before you shut your damn brain off. Upon entering, you were met with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, calming your nerves. Soft jazz plays in the background as guests sink into plush chairs, sipping lattes and chatting beneath shelves lined with well-loved books. You greeted the barista, flashing a curt smile before stating your order, and this time, you added a pastry—you know, just to treat yourself after your tiring shift.
Sitting on a comfortable plush chair, you bring out your laptop, turn it on, and start browsing through your emails, double-checking to ensure you don’t miss a single damn thing. A notification popped up from your calendar: GUN SHOOTING RANGE at noon this Saturday. An open tab of an online shop that you’ve been browsing last night. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the window in thought. It’s easy to get burnt out when you overwork yourself, which you knew ever since you chose to be in pre-med during your undergraduate years. You honestly thought of being a hero, entering as a hero medic, but it was just never for you.
A familiar barista approaches you, holding a tray of your order, breaking you out of your stupor. You smile again as he places them on the cool wooden table. “Thanks. How’s the college thus far, Ben?” you ask.
“It’s ok! The Japanese literature class is lowkey kicking my ass.” he says, rubbing the back of his head, “Kinda started to question the major I chose, but how about you, doc? I remember you briefly brought up a Medical Unit application.”
Oh my fuck. I was literally avoiding to think about this shit, damnit. You’ve been doing a great job suppressing this feeling of what? Butterflies? No—it’s maggots, definitely. You stirred your drink, taking a sip to act unaffected, “It’s going to be released tomorrow.” You say as cool as a cucumber, but mentally? Oh girl, your mind is doing laps.
“Well, you’ll definitely get in! You’re one of the hardest-working doctors I’ve met. That’s not me trying to mooch off of you or anything. I’m just being truthful,”
“Thanks. I hope.” The conversation ended when one of his coworkers called his name, leaving you alone with your thoughts and idling laptop. After a while, you left, seemingly satisfied with the quick relaxation you had using public transit to head home.
The sun begins to set, coloring the sky a dark hue, and the stars start to fill up space, shining bright as you pressed a code to enter the condominium building. The place is neither super luxurious nor janky. Your condo is simple, yet spacious and affordable. Your mom really did make sure that you’re financially literate. You changed out of your work clothes, followed your nightly routine, and not giving a damn about the outside world. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep minutes after taking a melatonin pill.
-
“Ma, you don’t have to worry a goddamn thing. I’ll take care of it,” you grumble, phone placed by your ear, walking out of the train station with purpose, it’s early morning and your back hurts from the fuck ass mattress you slept on last night “I’ll pay for my little brother’s tuition. All I want from you is to relax! Goodness sake, I know you’re handling grandfather’s business, and it’s stressful. Just don’t worry about—” A public commotion cuts you off, “I’ll call you later.” You hang up, eye twitching because the short route you always go to is filled with crowds of people. It’s literally 7 am..what could be happening now?!
“Red Riot!! We love you!!” a man screams, people gushing over the unbreakable hero. The two police cars are there to put the handcuffed villain in the vehicle.
Red Riot chuckled, and you could just sense the signature panty-dropping shark-toothed grin he’d show to the public. Hell, even guys admit they have a crush on this guy and bought the Red Riot-themed calendar. As much as you would like to see the hero in person, you have work to do, so you briskly walk to a different path.
“Hey, miss!” his voice was loud, and you thought none of it until you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, and lo and behold. The hero stands before you. He’s tall as hell, clad in his hero uniform, “Oh..uh, doc, you dropped this.” he hands you your condo key.
Your brain buffered for a quick second, “Thanks,” you took the key, “I didn’t notice.”
“It’s okay!” he smiles, and it looked like he was expecting something from you, but eventually settled with, “hope you have a great day!”
“Yeah. You too..!” You walked away while the crowd went even wilder. You missed the way Dynamite arrived at the scene, red piercing eyes glancing at you before calling out to him in a raspy voice.
And at the physician’s lounge? You were surrounded by your colleagues, asking so many questions about your interaction with the hero.
“Omg, what was he like?”
“He’s so damn fine. Did you take pictures with him? An autograph?”
“Did you ask for his number?”
“I would sell my kidney for him.”
You admitted that you didn’t ask him for anything and just expressed appreciation for picking up your house key. Of course, they clowned you, but you just laughed it off. However, the atmosphere soon shifted as everyone received a message from the medical director’s assistant about a meeting. Your heart dropped outta your ass as everyone hurried to the big meeting room, feeling excited, nervous, and curious.
Once everyone is situated, the well-esteemed director, Dr. Lee, stands unwavering at the podium. That alone has every health professional sit up and take notice. His eyes were sharp behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Good Morning. As you are all aware, the Medical Unit has announced the results for the top three ‘pillars’.” He paused for dramatic effect, and it didn’t fail. Everyone stilled; it was pure silence. You seriously heard someone gulp behind you, and you fight the urge to bite your fingernails. Fuck.
“And I’ve received a memo that one of you was chosen out of the thousands of applicants across Japan,” he continues, “It is commendable and we couldn’t be any prouder.” his assistant comes up to him, handing a small envelope. The silence stretches, and the tension is palpable. You literally felt all your senses shutting down like you’re astral projecting. “The Medical Unit is a new sector that integrates medicine in not just the hero world, but also the general, support, and management courses. This cultivates an expansive understanding.” The rest of Dr. Lee’s explanation of the Medical unit became static to you, in exchange of mulling over your brave choice of applying.
It’s not like you’re not confident in your abilities. Hell, you managed to get into a top medical school. You’re well-rounded and you know the ropes. You’ve dealt with the real shit outside academics, molding you into a strong professional that you are today…It’s just that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have their way of making you overthink and compare yourself to others. Are your credentials enough? Is this laughable? Are you stupid for believing that you have a shot at this? All you want is to excel in life and thrive. Maybe be someone in this world. Make a mark that influences those around you…
All of your thoughts dissipated when you felt a nudge on your arm from Miyano, “Dude. dude.”
“..huh?” You blinked, and all of a sudden, you felt all eyes on you, including the medical director, whose eyebrow was raised. Your eyes dart everywhere, making eye contact with everyone.
“I assume you’re Dr. L/N.” Dr. Lee’s voice echoes.
“Yes. I am,” you said aloud, not showing any weakness. Eyes resolved. Posture assertive and ready, bracing yourself to be told that you’re rejected from the Medical Unit.
“Congratulations.”
And that was not something you’re ready for.
Thank you for reading! Oh and I totes enjoy feedback, asks, anything!!! Keep an eye out for updates! Oh and if anyone wants to be added on my tag list, lmk!!! My ao3 is flrtt
Hey...I'M BACK. I've made a lot of stupid ahh quotes about how I"ll be able to upload ch 4 and 5 but err life—university AND romance—got in the way 😭...ALSO OMG TY for many feedbacks and such ! I appreciate it. You guys rlly inspire me to indulge in my hobbies even if it's writing fanfics. This fic is about 7 chapters long and I finished the plot (all I have to do is type the rest LOL).
I also just put this one post on "not interested" because it's referring to a ship that I absolutely despise..saur..anyways. nun new
Literal my first week of classes just started and they alr got us studying. This is what I get for attending a prestigious university💔. See, in the last week of summer break, I wanted to upload Chapter 4 and 5 but I fear this author partied for four days straight. This is why I've been MIA. Dw guys, I'll make sure the smut is gonna eat 😍
My goal is to finish this fic before Season 8 of MHA starts. TRUST
GUYS. Before my stupid ahh first round of exams, I want to actually publish chapter 4. The way I'm gonna get ultra backshots from biochem and physiology is diabolical holy shit. Either way, I'm starting to wrap up with Chapter 4 and and upload it last weekend but well...who acted like she tough as fuck, taking more shit even though she has low tolerance? ME! Yes ! This author had to deal with a trash can by the bed... NEVER AGAIN
Literal my first week of classes just started and they alr got us studying. This is what I get for attending a prestigious university💔. See, in the last week of summer break, I wanted to upload Chapter 4 and 5 but I fear this author partied for four days straight. This is why I've been MIA. Dw guys, I'll make sure the smut is gonna eat 😍
My goal is to finish this fic before Season 8 of MHA starts. TRUST
This chapter is longer than the past two for plot development (and compensation for not uploading this as promised last week); Chapter 4 should be shorter than this. I highly recommend listening to Safety Net by Ariana Grande while reading this fic because the song meaning relates to this chapter.
Let me know if any of you guys wants to be added to a tag list!
For Chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
“My migraine would always come back even though I would take pain killers,” your patient grew worried, “It would show up every now and then.”
You skimmed through the medical assistant’s notes on the patient monitor. “We can’t have you taking a lot of painkillers per day because it will affect your kidneys.” You turn your attention to the patient, “I’ll refer you to a neurologist. For now, please avoid anything that heightens your stress, as it will increase your cortisol levels, which means your migraines will most likely return.”
After five doctor visits later, you’re already weary, and it’s only been three hours since you clocked in. It’s only gonna get busier, you sighed, adjusting your white coat to your liking. It wasn’t lost on you that you’d agreed to let a student from U.A. shadow you today, so you have to trek your way to the main hospital, shaking your head at the thought of postponing it. You’ve already held off on this request twice now, reasonably so.
But this time? There are zero excuses for moving the student’s request to another date. Besides, you have a meeting with the One for All Hero, Deku. It’ll be great exposure for the overzealous kid.
Once you leave the clinic with the expensive leather handbag you bought as a self-care treat last week, you don’t waste time entering the public transit and looking for a bus seat. It wasn’t crowded compared to the early morning rush hour, so it was easy to find a spot to put your ass on. While the bus halted at a stoplight, your thoughts drifted to your relationships with the esteemed heroes. Crazily enough, most of them have told you to just address them by their names. You were with Yaoyorozu last weekend at a tea ceremony; Hatsume even called upon you to give insight about her new ‘baby’. They all seem to warm up to you despite your initial concern about fitting in.
As if on cue, the brooding blonde immediately entered your mind. Your interactions with him are nothing but curt and work-related. You internally admit that he’s intimidating, but you don’t let it show, and instead, you try to match his intensity. You’re not a pushover, and you’d rather count all the sand particles on the beach than let him have the upper hand.
Though…even if it’s just work-related, you enjoy this man’s company. Would Dynamight even want me to call him by his name? “No. Stop it. Don’t even think about it.” You whispered to yourself, cutting the thought short; the older man sitting across from you stood up once the bus stopped and moved to a different seat.
You don’t have the luxury to indulge in romance, and you can tell that he doesn’t either! Other than being a physician, you’re also shouldering familial duties and other responsibilities. To put it simply, you don’t have time for a distraction .
Eventually, you made it into the hospital on time, seeing the kid you chose to have under your wing, waiting and excited. The kid’s name is Katsuma Shimano—very diligent, following your every move, and muttering from time to time as you both walk down the sterile hospital hallway.
“Ok, so here’s where things get a tad bit complicated in my case,” you say, “We’ll meet the number four hero to discuss a few things here!” The kid’s eyes lit ever so brightly at that. You pulled out your phone to check a string of messages from the freckled hero, “Scratch that, we’re meeting him at….Dynamight’s Agency...?”
“Oh! My older sister looks up to Dynamight!” he beamed, “Can’t wait to tell her this!”
Thank God—or whoever’s up there—his agency’s not far away, but dammit, you’re starting to regret wearing your mini heels. Your feet are hurting, and you know it’s gonna develop a blister by the end of the day. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself because instead of switching into sneakers in the physician’s locker room, you just gritted through it even though the signs were being thrown at your face.
Upon entering Dynamight’s office, you marveled at how sleek and minimalist it is. A high floor with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a skyline view that reminds everyone who's really at the top. The natural light hits sleek, matte-black walls, and the concrete floors are softened by a Persian rug that costs more than your condo rent. Every piece of furniture has a purpose; No clutter, no excess. Just bold lines, cool tones, and quiet confidence.
“Oh, Doc—hi!!” Midoriya’s voice is gentle for a man who managed to beat Shigaraki with insane, borderline violent fight tactics. Standing behind him is the AirCon Hero: Shoto and the man who was in your thoughts a few hours ago. All three are clad in their sleek hero costumes. Shimano was practically beaming
“We hope we’re not bothering you three, I came here to discuss a little bit about Dek—uhm—Midoriya’s inquiries,” you greeted.
“Shit better be quick.” Dynamight rasps, arms crossed.
“It will be, Dynamight.” You hand the manila folder to Midoriya.
Well, the discussion wasn’t quick. Midoriya had question after question that you answered diligently. You don’t blame him, though. He just wants things to be thorough. “Doctor,” Midoriya speaks again, “Thanks for helping Ochako. She told me that you were the woman who gave her advice and treated matcha at the cafe shop months ago.”
That confirms your suspicion. “I—well. It’s nothing!” you wave it off, “I’m just doing my job. Her quirk counseling has helped a shit ton of kids. Excuse my language.” by the minute, your feet are screaming in pain, “It’s the least I can do.”
“Tha’s enough.” Dynamight interrupts, “I don’t got all day chit chattin’.”
Everyone stepped outside his agency. Shimano was talking with Midoriya, and Todoroki was standing next to Midoriya, throwing a few words here and there. You’re just letting the kid have his moment with his hero; It’s obvious that he looks up to them, especially Midoriya.
“Oi.”
You whip your head to the blonde. What could he possibly—
He stared ahead, “Stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn and your feet will thank you.”
The lazy, golden breeze swishes under the clear, sunny sky, brushing against your skin with a barely-there touch as you stare at him, eyes wide, “How did you even—”
“Doc,” Todoroki’s voice cuts through the interaction, “I was wondering if the medical files for my late brother, Touya Todoroki, are fixed.” His voice is calm and even. “I can visit your office tonight after my night patrol.”
“Sure.” You nod, “My office is on the third floor. If I’m not there, I’ll be in the emergency room doing my rounds and helping other injured heroes, if there are any. Just tell the front desk that you’re there to see me—that is, if they’re being tough on you, but I highly doubt that. You’re the number two hero.” You chuckle, unnoticing how the blonde’s demeanor shifted just a fraction, “If I’m not at the two places I told you, just have them page me.”
That night, you were waiting for Todoroki to show up in your office. “Are you waiting for loverboy?” Miyano leans by the door frame, smirking, shoulder bag slung over her shoulder.
“The number two hero?” You laugh, putting your files in the office storage file, “He just wants to clarify about the medical files.”
She makes herself comfortable, plopping down on the chair across from your desk, “Oh, come on. You’re literally exposed to these fine ass people and you’re telling me nobody caught your eye? Not even the number two hero?!!? He’s one of the prettiest men out here.”
Someone did catch my attention, you bit your lip, before saying, “Nah,” closing the drawer, standing up to face your friend, “You know I—”
“Don’t have the time to do romance. Blah blah blah.” She rolls her eyes, finishing the sentence, “No offense—actually full offense, you’re one of the most capable people I know, but you don’t give grace to yourself. It’s so okay to rest and live your damn life by allowing yourself to feel and shit, but no matter how much I say this to you, you wouldn’t even follow.”
“You done talkin’?” Dynamight’s voice made you and Miyano jolt in surprise, not expecting a third person to intervene. Let alone Dynamight of all people.
“D-dynamight?!” you’re incredulous, “What are you doing here?”
“Patch me up,” he says flatly, clad in his summer hero suit, crossing his strong arms.
Miyano quickly stood up and excused herself, mouthing a ‘good luck’ to you before doing a curt nod to the explosion hero who just narrowed his eyes on her. You blinked, “Patch...You up?” Your eyes searched for any signs of severity. “There are nurses out there who could help you with that in the emergency room.”
He clicks his tongue, “Those extras are too busy gossiping shit that I don’t give a fuck about. M’ not boutta turn this hospital upside down just to look for one when I can just go to you,” he grunted, sitting down on the chair where Miyano once sat, “You gonna do your job or not?”
“Might as well,” you sighed, putting on your disposable gloves as Dynamight scrutinized your office. He noticed the quirky collectible is perched underneath your monitor, and scattered papers on the desk. A picture of your family on a shelf, another ridiculous collectible next to it, and a mini pot for a plastic plant; Your office breathes personality in a subtle way—a glimpse of you outside of your occupation. But, out of everything he saw, one stood out: Melatonin pills.
“You take melatonin?”
“Uhh yeah, trouble sleeping,” you point at the wound, “this is not even severe.”
There was a beat of silence before he responded, “Not gonna rest without knowing it’s not gonna cause a damn headache. Severe or not,” he rasps, taking in the bags under your eyes, a misplaced strand of hair, slouched shoulders, fingernails getting shorter—you’re stressed.
You grabbed the first aid kit on top of your office storage file, used a cotton swab to get the ointment, and swabbed it gently on his bicep.
“Did Icyhot visit you?”
Your hand stilled, eyes flickering to his, “Icy…hot?”
His eye twitched, “Who the fuck has ice and fire quirk?”
“How the hell would I know that you call Todoroki that?” you retort, throwing the cotton bud to the trash bin, but it didn’t land, side-eyeing the man who just smirked.
“Common sense.”
You picked up the cotton bud and threw it in the trash. “Yeah, whatever, Dynamight. He messaged me earlier that he won’t be able to come, so he’ll just drop by tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s Bakugo.”
The atmosphere was still that you could hear a pin drop. You looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Listen here…Bakugo,” you say his name slowly and carefully. It rolled off your tongue right, but you shoved this thought down in the depths of your subconscious. Those crimson eyes that are always indifferent and calculating are now replaced with something else, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint the what about it is different for the life of you. “What happened to the saying, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you?’. I’m the one patching you up. You know I could’ve just said no and made your life miserable over some minor wound.” You raise a brow, gloved hand on your hip.
He snorted out a laugh, “You already patched me up, though.”
“Just saying, smartass.”
That interaction sticks with you more than you’d like to admit, creeping back whenever the night turns quiet. You end up lying there, shooting death glares at the ceiling like it’s the one that planted those looming thoughts in your head. Hell, it got to a point where it spills whenever you’re taking breaks from work. “It’s just the bare minimum. Chill the fuck out,” you grumbled, rubbing your temple, blue refractor glasses slowly slipping to the bridge of your nose as you’re deciphering another image. He only told you to call him by his name. It’s never that serious, so what difference does it make? You let out a sigh you didn’t know you had, clicking save on a spreadsheet filled with numbers of thresholds of a liver.
“Crime rates had plummeted, but we cannot be complacent,” the serious newscaster’s voice on the flat screen engulfed in your condo’s living room. “There has been an uptick in people pursuing healthcare, and growing problems within the system that affect everyone,” it panned to a brief report about it, grabbing your attention. It brought up how society has heroes who save lives, but it could only go to such an extent—the pro-heroes can’t save the sick.
“The health department launched a new sector that’s as important as the hero sector, the Medical Unit,” the reporter says, as the camera shifts to the head doctor of Japan’s health department, Dr. Charlie Hong, who briefly talks about the medical unit and its importance. In addition, he also introduced three representatives, disclosing names—You, Dr. Kim, and Dr. Yuna—for the media. This earned you a string of multiple congratulatory messages from friends and family, international and local. The reporter beams, “We call these three capable women Charlie’s Angels!”
“Great, now we gotta deal with the public,” you grumbled, sipping on hot tea that Yaoyorozu recommended before bedtime. You suppose it’s for a good cause, easing the general public’s growing concerns about the healthcare system, further improving it, but at the same time, it’s a flame to a moth—not the good moths, that’s for sure.
-
“Charlie’s Angels? Really?” You scoffed.
“Oh, come on! It’s fun! Maboromicamie told me that it’s ‘cunt’, which is a great thing!” Kim mused, “It definitely makes us less intimidating to the public and more warm.”
Yuna merely responded while the three of you walked briskly down the wide corridor that led to the conference room, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The hallway is lined with tall, frosted-glass windows that let in soft natural light, casting long shadows across the muted gray carpet runners. Potted plants in modern ceramic planters stand at even intervals, giving the space a touch of greenery amid the cool, professional palette. A distant hum of conversation grows louder as the women approach the conference room doors, which stand open beneath a bold banner marked “Medical Unit.”
You paused right outside the door. “Is something wrong?” Yuna asked, her bangled hand on the door handle.
“We can let the PR team know that we’ll be running a little late?” Kim suggests, smiling softly, but that doesn’t erase her growing concern.
The entire press is there, practically salivating for inside scoops, new information, and possibly trying to exploit blind spots to weave a false narrative that could divide public opinion for the sake of views. For all your confidence and bravado, your heart started to race, a slight tremor on your hand, but you shut it down before it could get worse. Focus. You stared at Yuna and Kim, “S’ fine. Just preparing for a quick little 3-second breather before we crush this thing.”
“That’s the spirit!” Kim beams, “We can do this!” raising her fist in the air. Yuna opened the door, and the three of you were met with flashing lights, just beyond, rows of chairs and a long panel table awaited, lit by overhead spotlights that shone down from the high, grid-like ceiling. People watched as you three made your way to your seats at the front, the mic placed on the table in front of your faces, you mastered the art of concealing. After all, showing any doubt, even just a fraction, will lead to a negative outcome, especially when you’re a representative in the Medical Unit. Needless to say, it was chaotic, you tried not to blink too much from the camera flashes so that they won’t release a damn picture of you with your eyes closed and a demeaning caption on it. Worse, become an internet sensation for the wrong reason.
“Good work, our lovely doctors!” The PR manager cheered, reading the public forums on the tablet. It honestly felt like the three of you are just mere celebrities who got famous overnight, and not physicians who work through the bone. “Up next, a meeting with the Prime Minister of Japan at 首相官邸 (Prime Minister’s Office). Our schedule is packed for the week ahead! Now let’s go go go!!!”
When you're busy, time flies by, you rarely have the time for yourself, solely focused on work. You looked out of the window of your humble home, the moon nowhere to be seen; stars hidden by the clouds. A subtle mist from an essential oil diffuser gently wafts through the air, filling the space with calming notes of lavender and eucalyptus that relax the mind and body. You always tout yourself as a strong individual, raised by strong-willed parents, and the unbreakable under pressure.
But sometimes? There’s a fraction in your heart that aches for you to let your guard down—an inner voice that wants you to fully experience what it feels like to break out of your skin-tethered iron armor you’re always adorned with; where you don’t have to be strong all the damn time; where you can sit on a bench without thinking about your responsibilities. Even though you give time for yourself, you still feel restless. It's an itch that no matter how much you scratch it or apply a massive amount of itch cream, it will always be prominent.
You glanced at the sentence you wrote in your journal notebook: If not now, when?
Uncremeniously, a tear slowly trails down your cheek, but you wipe it away with haste, “I’d better head to sleep. Tomorrow’s the last day of this damn public shit and I can finally rest on Saturday or maybe hone my quirk fighting skills and self-defense at the gym or something.”
The following evening, you’re at a pro-hero meeting as the only physician since Kim and Yuna are tasked with different things, respectively, with an energy drink in hand because coffee’s just not doing you justice for the past few days. It wasn’t overlooked that you downed three fucking energy drinks. It also didn’t help that you’re being wrung out by question after question, which you delivered to the best of your abilities, of course.
Maboromicamie’s compliment from three days ago infiltrated your inner thoughts, “Babes, you’re so in your boss bitch era.” I mean, hey! She’s not wrong, though, you smirked at the thought. While Hatsume spoke of logistics, typical hero stuff, your phone vibrated, and you felt your heart sink as you briefly read the message…
Kim (Medical Unit): They ran out of your favorite snack. Sorry girl :[
Are you fucking kidding me?! Your hands tightened around your phone, and the urge to lash out pulses through your veins. You sent a message back:
YOU: What the hell do you mean that it’s fucking out?!?! The clerk told me literally two days ago that they’re restocking? WTF.
It’s as if everything—stress, fatigue, and disappointment—collapses all at once, a tidal wave crashing down with no warning or mercy. Logic slips away, replaced by a raw, desperate need to break free from the suffocating pressure, even if it means losing control. You felt your head heat up, and a tension headache began to form. This was the final thread to your overworked self, but you felt a light tap on your shoulder.
“Doc?” Hatsume’s voice yanked you back from hell, jolting you out of your haze.
….everyone is staring. The air feels thick, the silence heavier than before. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on you, expectant and curious. The room feels suddenly smaller, the weight of all those gazes crushing, caught in a spotlight where you either want to vanish or hold yourself together. The crash you’d been fleeing now feels all the closer, but for a moment, you’re forced to stay grounded—visible, exposed, and completely on display.
“Ah, right, can you repeat what you were saying? I didn’t quite catch that.” you chalked up some stupid ass excuse. You were honestly glad that they didn’t press further, or you were going to drop a damn nuke on this building. Eventually, the meeting wraps up, your social battery flatlines, and all you want to do is take melatonin and sleep like a baby. You only gave a quick nod to whoever was nearby, a brisk pace, back straight, head high as if you’re not at the seams.
Typically, you’d just leave through the main doors of Todoroki’s agency like a normal person, but tonight, something gnaws at you to exit in the parking lot—to take a brief detour. Or maybe, just maybe, the need to be alone without having to explain. You took the side hallway, pushing the door open into the parking lot instead.
The night air hit differently here—cooler, heavier. The parking lot stretched out before you, mostly empty, bathed in the dull amber of flickering lights. There were no cars; It was nothing but short of a liminal space. You walked slower, footsteps sounding louder than they should.
You have a different kind of tiredness that seeps past muscle and bone, down into the center of who you are. It was nearly empty, quiet in that strange, echoing way that only late nights can hold.
The silence makes way for your thoughts to barge in unwelcome. The next thing you know, the breath you thought you had under control caught in your throat. Shoulders shook, eye stinging, now in a troubled fetal position by the cemented railing, the fabric at your arm clings, wet with tears you hadn’t meant to shed. Those tears that poured out of nowhere and everywhere all at once.
No one saw. Just the night. Just the silence. Just the parking lot…..
“I-i’m sorry. I know you w-wanted to go home...,” you sniffled, hugging yourself, to comfort yourself. You’re used to it, “I-im strong and i-independent..I can handle it.” Fresh tears trail down your cheeks as you sob, “I-i’ll go home..I just need the strength to pull through again.” You kept talking to yourself, giving words of affirmation and reassurance. You know you’ll pull through, “I-i can’t—” you sniffled, “I can’t show this. You know this…crying is a weak—”
“.....you’re not weak for crying.” That familiar gruff voice echoes in the parking lot, and you catch a glimpse of heavy boots in front of you.
You went still, controlling your shaky breath forcibly. To be honest, you don’t know who to fucking slap, you choosing to be a fucking drama queen by walking down the parking lot like you’re in some telenovela or the damn universe for sending the last person you don’t want to witness you at this state. “M’ just tired, so I chose to do this. I’ll be back up in a jiff.”
“Bullshit. You think I didn’t fuckin’ hear you crying at my agency’s parking lot? Or the fact that you downed three fuckin’ energy drinks like that shit won’t fuck up your system?” Bakugo’s way of words is unappealing, but his tone is different. You recognized it immediately—it’s something you also do to people you care about. He’s worried, but is too proud to show it.
For the first time, you have nothing to retort. “I..well—”
“Where do you live?”
With that, you whipped your head upwards at him, red-eyed and flabbergasted. Did he just..? His strong physique blocks the light behind him, casting a shadow. It’s like being saved by some guardian angel, except he’s a pain in the ass. He didn’t respond quickly, looking at you, too, taking in your deflated state. It stayed like this for a beat.
He finally speaks, voice now calm and even, “M’ taking you home.”
Your eyes grew wider, and you stood up fast, your professional attire uncrinkling, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, “No! It’s okay. I can walk home. I can handle myself. The train is five minutes away from the agency. It’s logical to walk there.”
“Walk? At this fucking time? None of the shit you just said is logical. I’ll drive you home—”
You try to argue, “I said—”
“Don’t be fucking stubborn, caffeine.”
“Caffeine?! I have a fucking name, dumbass! I just..! Urgh!” You facepalmed, eyes darting at anything but him, “I don’t want to ask for help and be bothersome...” your voice softening just a fraction at the vulnerability.
“Askin’ for help is not being a burden…If you don’t wanna go, then fuckin’ don’t, but don’t act like I didn’t offer.” He walks past you, hands in his pockets, leaving you there standing. He’s right, though…you’re an easy target because you’re a woman and a civilian.
“....wait!” You jog to the man, “Fine! I’ll..I’ll come with you! Just—slow down and walk with me side by side.” You absolutely did not mean to say the last bit, and you expected him to ignore that comment, but instead, he actually stopped and let you catch up to him, until you were both walking side by side on the way to his sleek black sports car—the only car left.
Neither of you spoke as he opened the front passenger’s seat before entering the driver’s seat. You peek behind you, seeing a big ass crash cushion on the backseat. You want to ask, but you’re too fucking tired, just settling with the assumption that it’s for pro-hero shit. He asked for your address before starting the engine, driving off.
The car stops at a red light, “Dyna—I mean—Bakugo..” You look out the window, it’s quiet, but comfortable silence engulfs you both, “thanks for you know…being there,” truth be told, you’re appreciative that he didn’t hover or smother you with pity; instead, he stayed steady—an anchor in that moment. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak or anything.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, “S’ impossible for someone to always have their shit together,” he rasps, “one way or the other, you’re bound to feel overwhelmed. It’s not a weakness to let your guard down when it happens. Hell, that’s real strength.” Bakugo’s voice was contemplative and grounding.
“Didn’t peg you as a guy who’d offer wisdom,” you snarked, a flush of warmth blooming in your chest, “..thanks.”
He just grunts in response, and a restful silence settles between you. You glance out the window again, drinking in the stillness of the empty street and the hush that blankets the city. There’s something about the steady hum of the engine, the faint, pleasant scent of his car, and the way he drives that makes your eyelids grow heavy.
You shifted more comfortably, the tension easing from your shoulders. Your expensive leather handbag sat on your lap as your head rested against the car’s side pillar, right where the seatbelt is anchored.
Throughout the ride, he doesn’t say much, just keeps his hand steady on the wheel. Somehow, that’s enough. For the first time, melatonin isn’t part of your night. And as your eyes close, the world outside feels less heavy.
Chapter four will be uploaded this week. 🫣. I finished my plot skeleton since June all I gotta do is type my story and follow the plot LMAOOO. Also I'm putting this fic in wattpad too because someone suggested it on my ao3...
😭 it's literally gonna be my other wattpad fic other than the Jungkook x Reader fic that I wrote in middle school that's still on the top 100 ratings LMAOOOOOOOO
bakugo fucking you after a heated argument would include…
screaming at each other until you’re toe to toe, both red-faced, chest heaving, too prideful to back down, and then it goes quiet. his jaw clenches. your lip trembles. and then he grabs you by the waist and slams you into the nearest wall.
he’s growling, “shut the fuck up,” right before he kisses you like he hates you. it’s teeth, tongue, bruising grip. his hands gripping your face like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
clothes? gone. ripped. thrown. he doesn’t have the patience to undress you gently. “you wanna talk shit, fine. but now you’re gonna take it. right fucking here.”
he’s forcing you to arch for him while he grinds into you hard, deep, and deliberate. one hand in your hair, the other on your hip, and he’s pounding into you like he’s trying to stake his claim all over again.
he’s muttering filth into your ear mid-thrust. “you think you can talk to me like that and not get fucked stupid? tch. gonna learn real fuckin’ fast who you belong to.”
he’s gripping your throat to hold you still. watching your eyes go wide as he fucks you harder and smirks, “you wanna scream? do it. let the whole building know who’s fucking you this good.”
he’s calling you out while fucking you dumb. “what was that earlier? huh? all that mouth—where is it now, princess?”
him putting you in a mating press just to make you shut up. your legs folded, his body flush against yours, face buried in your neck as he groans, “can’t stay mad at you when you’re wrapped around me like this…”
he’s gripping your ass, fucking you through your orgasm, and still not stopping. “nah, don’t cry now. you wanted this. you asked for it the second you raised your fuckin’ voice at me.”
aftercare that’s quiet but full of guilt. he doesn’t always say it, but you feel it in the way he wipes your tears, kisses your forehead, and growls, “don’t leave me over dumb shit. i’m sorry. you piss me off but i fuckin’ love you.”
Synopsis: After years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights in medical school and residency, you’re offered the chance of a lifetime: a position as a physician in Japan. With the public interest in healthcare on the rise, the elite Medical Unit has just been established, and you don’t hesitate to accept.
You have a one-track mind: to excel. It’s expected. It’s career-focused. No distractions…until you cross paths with a certain blonde.
Note: This is highkey inspired by a post I read from @azzo0 where reader's a med student and I want to explore this profession for this short-chapter fic I'm cooking. I also want to take this time to say that reading the works of @ofmermaidstories , @andypantsx3 , @willowser , and @thetrashywritingwitch for literal YEARS actually pushed me to brush-off my writer's block and cultivate my writing skills. So if you see this, tysm muah <3 - from a not-so-popular fic author.
Enjoy!
“Pro Hero Dynamight surged from rank 15 to 5!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and proud, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from the television placed on the wall. Then, the screen pans to a familiar green-haired man, One for All Hero, Deku, speaking gently to the cheery live reporter as Dynamight stood by him, brooding as usual. It was the aftermath of a villain fight—a quick fight at that.
“They really got the public hooked, huh?” Dr. Miyano says before she shoves rice and curry into her mouth using the spoon she bought at a merchandise store, it was a minimalist design of Creati. The cafeteria was filled with chirpy health professionals—some were talking to each other, some watching TV, and some were ready for seconds as they stood up, went back to the cafeteria line, and already dished out their debit cards and IDs to be scanned.
“I’m not surprised,” you remarked, sloshing the ready-to-go glass of coffee you just ordered at the vending machine. Ever since the new generation of heroes rose, the crime rate plummeted and, of course, the heroes gained a shit ton of popularity, especially the U.A alumnis because they played key role in defeating Shigaraki and All for One, “they literally saved Japan and the whole world by extension.”
Lunch went by in a blur—literally because it’s only a 30-minute duration. You and Miyano walked into the physician’s lounge, greeting coworkers and putting the now-empty bentos in your respective lunch bags. “You think we’re gonna meet them?” Dr. Miyano says aloud, zipping her lunch bag.
You snide, “yeah, we’ll meet them one on one if we’re…A, we’re in the middle of a villain attack. B, we’re tending to them, and C, one of us is in the Medical Unit, which is a competitive sector. Totally easy.” you fix your white coat and apply lip gloss—you gotta atleast look presentable even though you were running on only two hours sleep from the damn graveyard shift you took last night. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” At that, you left the room to do your patient rounds, prescribe medicine in doctor appointments, and the like.
After your afternoon shift, you headed to a nice cafe—to unwind and do a quick email browse before you shut your damn brain off. Upon entering, you were met with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, calming your nerves. Soft jazz plays in the background as guests sink into plush chairs, sipping lattes and chatting beneath shelves lined with well-loved books. You greeted the barista, flashing a curt smile before stating your order, and this time, you added a pastry—you know, just to treat yourself after your tiring shift.
Sitting on a comfortable plush chair, you bring out your laptop, turn it on, and start browsing through your emails, double-checking to ensure you don’t miss a single damn thing. A notification popped up from your calendar: GUN SHOOTING RANGE at noon this Saturday. An open tab of an online shop that you’ve been browsing last night. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the window in thought. It’s easy to get burnt out when you overwork yourself, which you knew ever since you chose to be in pre-med during your undergraduate years. You honestly thought of being a hero, entering as a hero medic, but it was just never for you.
A familiar barista approaches you, holding a tray of your order, breaking you out of your stupor. You smile again as he places them on the cool wooden table. “Thanks. How’s the college thus far, Ben?” you ask.
“It’s ok! The Japanese literature class is lowkey kicking my ass.” he says, rubbing the back of his head, “Kinda started to question the major I chose, but how about you, doc? I remember you briefly brought up a Medical Unit application.”
Oh my fuck. I was literally avoiding to think about this shit, damnit. You’ve been doing a great job suppressing this feeling of what? Butterflies? No—it’s maggots, definitely. You stirred your drink, taking a sip to act unaffected, “It’s going to be released tomorrow.” You say as cool as a cucumber, but mentally? Oh girl, your mind is doing laps.
“Well, you’ll definitely get in! You’re one of the hardest-working doctors I’ve met. That’s not me trying to mooch off of you or anything. I’m just being truthful,”
“Thanks. I hope.” The conversation ended when one of his coworkers called his name, leaving you alone with your thoughts and idling laptop. After a while, you left, seemingly satisfied with the quick relaxation you had using public transit to head home.
The sun begins to set, coloring the sky a dark hue, and the stars start to fill up space, shining bright as you pressed a code to enter the condominium building. The place is neither super luxurious nor janky. Your condo is simple, yet spacious and affordable. Your mom really did make sure that you’re financially literate. You changed out of your work clothes, followed your nightly routine, and not giving a damn about the outside world. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep minutes after taking a melatonin pill.
-
“Ma, you don’t have to worry a goddamn thing. I’ll take care of it,” you grumble, phone placed by your ear, walking out of the train station with purpose, it’s early morning and your back hurts from the fuck ass mattress you slept on last night “I’ll pay for my little brother’s tuition. All I want from you is to relax! Goodness sake, I know you’re handling grandfather’s business, and it’s stressful. Just don’t worry about—” A public commotion cuts you off, “I’ll call you later.” You hang up, eye twitching because the short route you always go to is filled with crowds of people. It’s literally 7 am..what could be happening now?!
“Red Riot!! We love you!!” a man screams, people gushing over the unbreakable hero. The two police cars are there to put the handcuffed villain in the vehicle.
Red Riot chuckled, and you could just sense the signature panty-dropping shark-toothed grin he’d show to the public. Hell, even guys admit they have a crush on this guy and bought the Red Riot-themed calendar. As much as you would like to see the hero in person, you have work to do, so you briskly walk to a different path.
“Hey, miss!” his voice was loud, and you thought none of it until you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, and lo and behold. The hero stands before you. He’s tall as hell, clad in his hero uniform, “Oh..uh, doc, you dropped this.” he hands you your condo key.
Your brain buffered for a quick second, “Thanks,” you took the key, “I didn’t notice.”
“It’s okay!” he smiles, and it looked like he was expecting something from you, but eventually settled with, “hope you have a great day!”
“Yeah. You too..!” You walked away while the crowd went even wilder. You missed the way Dynamite arrived at the scene, red piercing eyes glancing at you before calling out to him in a raspy voice.
And at the physician’s lounge? You were surrounded by your colleagues, asking so many questions about your interaction with the hero.
“Omg, what was he like?”
“He’s so damn fine. Did you take pictures with him? An autograph?”
“Did you ask for his number?”
“I would sell my kidney for him.”
You admitted that you didn’t ask him for anything and just expressed appreciation for picking up your house key. Of course, they clowned you, but you just laughed it off. However, the atmosphere soon shifted as everyone received a message from the medical director’s assistant about a meeting. Your heart dropped outta your ass as everyone hurried to the big meeting room, feeling excited, nervous, and curious.
Once everyone is situated, the well-esteemed director, Dr. Lee, stands unwavering at the podium. That alone has every health professional sit up and take notice. His eyes were sharp behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Good Morning. As you are all aware, the Medical Unit has announced the results for the top three ‘pillars’.” He paused for dramatic effect, and it didn’t fail. Everyone stilled; it was pure silence. You seriously heard someone gulp behind you, and you fight the urge to bite your fingernails. Fuck.
“And I’ve received a memo that one of you was chosen out of the thousands of applicants across Japan,” he continues, “It is commendable and we couldn’t be any prouder.” his assistant comes up to him, handing a small envelope. The silence stretches, and the tension is palpable. You literally felt all your senses shutting down like you’re astral projecting. “The Medical Unit is a new sector that integrates medicine in not just the hero world, but also the general, support, and management courses. This cultivates an expansive understanding.” The rest of Dr. Lee’s explanation of the Medical unit became static to you, in exchange of mulling over your brave choice of applying.
It’s not like you’re not confident in your abilities. Hell, you managed to get into a top medical school. You’re well-rounded and you know the ropes. You’ve dealt with the real shit outside academics, molding you into a strong professional that you are today…It’s just that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have their way of making you overthink and compare yourself to others. Are your credentials enough? Is this laughable? Are you stupid for believing that you have a shot at this? All you want is to excel in life and thrive. Maybe be someone in this world. Make a mark that influences those around you…
All of your thoughts dissipated when you felt a nudge on your arm from Miyano, “Dude. dude.”
“..huh?” You blinked, and all of a sudden, you felt all eyes on you, including the medical director, whose eyebrow was raised. Your eyes dart everywhere, making eye contact with everyone.
“I assume you’re Dr. L/N.” Dr. Lee’s voice echoes.
“Yes. I am,” you said aloud, not showing any weakness. Eyes resolved. Posture assertive and ready, bracing yourself to be told that you’re rejected from the Medical Unit.
“Congratulations.”
And that was not something you’re ready for.
Thank you for reading! Oh and I totes enjoy feedback, asks, anything!!! Keep an eye out for updates! Oh and if anyone wants to be added on my tag list, lmk!!! My ao3 is flrtt
This chapter is longer than the past two for plot development (and compensation for not uploading this as promised last week); Chapter 4 should be shorter than this. I highly recommend listening to Safety Net by Ariana Grande while reading this fic because the song meaning relates to this chapter.
Let me know if any of you guys wants to be added to a tag list!
For Chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
“My migraine would always come back even though I would take pain killers,” your patient grew worried, “It would show up every now and then.”
You skimmed through the medical assistant’s notes on the patient monitor. “We can’t have you taking a lot of painkillers per day because it will affect your kidneys.” You turn your attention to the patient, “I’ll refer you to a neurologist. For now, please avoid anything that heightens your stress, as it will increase your cortisol levels, which means your migraines will most likely return.”
After five doctor visits later, you’re already weary, and it’s only been three hours since you clocked in. It’s only gonna get busier, you sighed, adjusting your white coat to your liking. It wasn’t lost on you that you’d agreed to let a student from U.A. shadow you today, so you have to trek your way to the main hospital, shaking your head at the thought of postponing it. You’ve already held off on this request twice now, reasonably so.
But this time? There are zero excuses for moving the student’s request to another date. Besides, you have a meeting with the One for All Hero, Deku. It’ll be great exposure for the overzealous kid.
Once you leave the clinic with the expensive leather handbag you bought as a self-care treat last week, you don’t waste time entering the public transit and looking for a bus seat. It wasn’t crowded compared to the early morning rush hour, so it was easy to find a spot to put your ass on. While the bus halted at a stoplight, your thoughts drifted to your relationships with the esteemed heroes. Crazily enough, most of them have told you to just address them by their names. You were with Yaoyorozu last weekend at a tea ceremony; Hatsume even called upon you to give insight about her new ‘baby’. They all seem to warm up to you despite your initial concern about fitting in.
As if on cue, the brooding blonde immediately entered your mind. Your interactions with him are nothing but curt and work-related. You internally admit that he’s intimidating, but you don’t let it show, and instead, you try to match his intensity. You’re not a pushover, and you’d rather count all the sand particles on the beach than let him have the upper hand.
Though…even if it’s just work-related, you enjoy this man’s company. Would Dynamight even want me to call him by his name? “No. Stop it. Don’t even think about it.” You whispered to yourself, cutting the thought short; the older man sitting across from you stood up once the bus stopped and moved to a different seat.
You don’t have the luxury to indulge in romance, and you can tell that he doesn’t either! Other than being a physician, you’re also shouldering familial duties and other responsibilities. To put it simply, you don’t have time for a distraction .
Eventually, you made it into the hospital on time, seeing the kid you chose to have under your wing, waiting and excited. The kid’s name is Katsuma Shimano—very diligent, following your every move, and muttering from time to time as you both walk down the sterile hospital hallway.
“Ok, so here’s where things get a tad bit complicated in my case,” you say, “We’ll meet the number four hero to discuss a few things here!” The kid’s eyes lit ever so brightly at that. You pulled out your phone to check a string of messages from the freckled hero, “Scratch that, we’re meeting him at….Dynamight’s Agency...?”
“Oh! My older sister looks up to Dynamight!” he beamed, “Can’t wait to tell her this!”
Thank God—or whoever’s up there—his agency’s not far away, but dammit, you’re starting to regret wearing your mini heels. Your feet are hurting, and you know it’s gonna develop a blister by the end of the day. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself because instead of switching into sneakers in the physician’s locker room, you just gritted through it even though the signs were being thrown at your face.
Upon entering Dynamight’s office, you marveled at how sleek and minimalist it is. A high floor with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a skyline view that reminds everyone who's really at the top. The natural light hits sleek, matte-black walls, and the concrete floors are softened by a Persian rug that costs more than your condo rent. Every piece of furniture has a purpose; No clutter, no excess. Just bold lines, cool tones, and quiet confidence.
“Oh, Doc—hi!!” Midoriya’s voice is gentle for a man who managed to beat Shigaraki with insane, borderline violent fight tactics. Standing behind him is the AirCon Hero: Shoto and the man who was in your thoughts a few hours ago. All three are clad in their sleek hero costumes. Shimano was practically beaming
“We hope we’re not bothering you three, I came here to discuss a little bit about Dek—uhm—Midoriya’s inquiries,” you greeted.
“Shit better be quick.” Dynamight rasps, arms crossed.
“It will be, Dynamight.” You hand the manila folder to Midoriya.
Well, the discussion wasn’t quick. Midoriya had question after question that you answered diligently. You don’t blame him, though. He just wants things to be thorough. “Doctor,” Midoriya speaks again, “Thanks for helping Ochako. She told me that you were the woman who gave her advice and treated matcha at the cafe shop months ago.”
That confirms your suspicion. “I—well. It’s nothing!” you wave it off, “I’m just doing my job. Her quirk counseling has helped a shit ton of kids. Excuse my language.” by the minute, your feet are screaming in pain, “It’s the least I can do.”
“Tha’s enough.” Dynamight interrupts, “I don’t got all day chit chattin’.”
Everyone stepped outside his agency. Shimano was talking with Midoriya, and Todoroki was standing next to Midoriya, throwing a few words here and there. You’re just letting the kid have his moment with his hero; It’s obvious that he looks up to them, especially Midoriya.
“Oi.”
You whip your head to the blonde. What could he possibly—
He stared ahead, “Stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn and your feet will thank you.”
The lazy, golden breeze swishes under the clear, sunny sky, brushing against your skin with a barely-there touch as you stare at him, eyes wide, “How did you even—”
“Doc,” Todoroki’s voice cuts through the interaction, “I was wondering if the medical files for my late brother, Touya Todoroki, are fixed.” His voice is calm and even. “I can visit your office tonight after my night patrol.”
“Sure.” You nod, “My office is on the third floor. If I’m not there, I’ll be in the emergency room doing my rounds and helping other injured heroes, if there are any. Just tell the front desk that you’re there to see me—that is, if they’re being tough on you, but I highly doubt that. You’re the number two hero.” You chuckle, unnoticing how the blonde’s demeanor shifted just a fraction, “If I’m not at the two places I told you, just have them page me.”
That night, you were waiting for Todoroki to show up in your office. “Are you waiting for loverboy?” Miyano leans by the door frame, smirking, shoulder bag slung over her shoulder.
“The number two hero?” You laugh, putting your files in the office storage file, “He just wants to clarify about the medical files.”
She makes herself comfortable, plopping down on the chair across from your desk, “Oh, come on. You’re literally exposed to these fine ass people and you’re telling me nobody caught your eye? Not even the number two hero?!!? He’s one of the prettiest men out here.”
Someone did catch my attention, you bit your lip, before saying, “Nah,” closing the drawer, standing up to face your friend, “You know I—”
“Don’t have the time to do romance. Blah blah blah.” She rolls her eyes, finishing the sentence, “No offense—actually full offense, you’re one of the most capable people I know, but you don’t give grace to yourself. It’s so okay to rest and live your damn life by allowing yourself to feel and shit, but no matter how much I say this to you, you wouldn’t even follow.”
“You done talkin’?” Dynamight’s voice made you and Miyano jolt in surprise, not expecting a third person to intervene. Let alone Dynamight of all people.
“D-dynamight?!” you’re incredulous, “What are you doing here?”
“Patch me up,” he says flatly, clad in his summer hero suit, crossing his strong arms.
Miyano quickly stood up and excused herself, mouthing a ‘good luck’ to you before doing a curt nod to the explosion hero who just narrowed his eyes on her. You blinked, “Patch...You up?” Your eyes searched for any signs of severity. “There are nurses out there who could help you with that in the emergency room.”
He clicks his tongue, “Those extras are too busy gossiping shit that I don’t give a fuck about. M’ not boutta turn this hospital upside down just to look for one when I can just go to you,” he grunted, sitting down on the chair where Miyano once sat, “You gonna do your job or not?”
“Might as well,” you sighed, putting on your disposable gloves as Dynamight scrutinized your office. He noticed the quirky collectible is perched underneath your monitor, and scattered papers on the desk. A picture of your family on a shelf, another ridiculous collectible next to it, and a mini pot for a plastic plant; Your office breathes personality in a subtle way—a glimpse of you outside of your occupation. But, out of everything he saw, one stood out: Melatonin pills.
“You take melatonin?”
“Uhh yeah, trouble sleeping,” you point at the wound, “this is not even severe.”
There was a beat of silence before he responded, “Not gonna rest without knowing it’s not gonna cause a damn headache. Severe or not,” he rasps, taking in the bags under your eyes, a misplaced strand of hair, slouched shoulders, fingernails getting shorter—you’re stressed.
You grabbed the first aid kit on top of your office storage file, used a cotton swab to get the ointment, and swabbed it gently on his bicep.
“Did Icyhot visit you?”
Your hand stilled, eyes flickering to his, “Icy…hot?”
His eye twitched, “Who the fuck has ice and fire quirk?”
“How the hell would I know that you call Todoroki that?” you retort, throwing the cotton bud to the trash bin, but it didn’t land, side-eyeing the man who just smirked.
“Common sense.”
You picked up the cotton bud and threw it in the trash. “Yeah, whatever, Dynamight. He messaged me earlier that he won’t be able to come, so he’ll just drop by tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s Bakugo.”
The atmosphere was still that you could hear a pin drop. You looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Listen here…Bakugo,” you say his name slowly and carefully. It rolled off your tongue right, but you shoved this thought down in the depths of your subconscious. Those crimson eyes that are always indifferent and calculating are now replaced with something else, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint the what about it is different for the life of you. “What happened to the saying, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you?’. I’m the one patching you up. You know I could’ve just said no and made your life miserable over some minor wound.” You raise a brow, gloved hand on your hip.
He snorted out a laugh, “You already patched me up, though.”
“Just saying, smartass.”
That interaction sticks with you more than you’d like to admit, creeping back whenever the night turns quiet. You end up lying there, shooting death glares at the ceiling like it’s the one that planted those looming thoughts in your head. Hell, it got to a point where it spills whenever you’re taking breaks from work. “It’s just the bare minimum. Chill the fuck out,” you grumbled, rubbing your temple, blue refractor glasses slowly slipping to the bridge of your nose as you’re deciphering another image. He only told you to call him by his name. It’s never that serious, so what difference does it make? You let out a sigh you didn’t know you had, clicking save on a spreadsheet filled with numbers of thresholds of a liver.
“Crime rates had plummeted, but we cannot be complacent,” the serious newscaster’s voice on the flat screen engulfed in your condo’s living room. “There has been an uptick in people pursuing healthcare, and growing problems within the system that affect everyone,” it panned to a brief report about it, grabbing your attention. It brought up how society has heroes who save lives, but it could only go to such an extent—the pro-heroes can’t save the sick.
“The health department launched a new sector that’s as important as the hero sector, the Medical Unit,” the reporter says, as the camera shifts to the head doctor of Japan’s health department, Dr. Charlie Hong, who briefly talks about the medical unit and its importance. In addition, he also introduced three representatives, disclosing names—You, Dr. Kim, and Dr. Yuna—for the media. This earned you a string of multiple congratulatory messages from friends and family, international and local. The reporter beams, “We call these three capable women Charlie’s Angels!”
“Great, now we gotta deal with the public,” you grumbled, sipping on hot tea that Yaoyorozu recommended before bedtime. You suppose it’s for a good cause, easing the general public’s growing concerns about the healthcare system, further improving it, but at the same time, it’s a flame to a moth—not the good moths, that’s for sure.
-
“Charlie’s Angels? Really?” You scoffed.
“Oh, come on! It’s fun! Maboromicamie told me that it’s ‘cunt’, which is a great thing!” Kim mused, “It definitely makes us less intimidating to the public and more warm.”
Yuna merely responded while the three of you walked briskly down the wide corridor that led to the conference room, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The hallway is lined with tall, frosted-glass windows that let in soft natural light, casting long shadows across the muted gray carpet runners. Potted plants in modern ceramic planters stand at even intervals, giving the space a touch of greenery amid the cool, professional palette. A distant hum of conversation grows louder as the women approach the conference room doors, which stand open beneath a bold banner marked “Medical Unit.”
You paused right outside the door. “Is something wrong?” Yuna asked, her bangled hand on the door handle.
“We can let the PR team know that we’ll be running a little late?” Kim suggests, smiling softly, but that doesn’t erase her growing concern.
The entire press is there, practically salivating for inside scoops, new information, and possibly trying to exploit blind spots to weave a false narrative that could divide public opinion for the sake of views. For all your confidence and bravado, your heart started to race, a slight tremor on your hand, but you shut it down before it could get worse. Focus. You stared at Yuna and Kim, “S’ fine. Just preparing for a quick little 3-second breather before we crush this thing.”
“That’s the spirit!” Kim beams, “We can do this!” raising her fist in the air. Yuna opened the door, and the three of you were met with flashing lights, just beyond, rows of chairs and a long panel table awaited, lit by overhead spotlights that shone down from the high, grid-like ceiling. People watched as you three made your way to your seats at the front, the mic placed on the table in front of your faces, you mastered the art of concealing. After all, showing any doubt, even just a fraction, will lead to a negative outcome, especially when you’re a representative in the Medical Unit. Needless to say, it was chaotic, you tried not to blink too much from the camera flashes so that they won’t release a damn picture of you with your eyes closed and a demeaning caption on it. Worse, become an internet sensation for the wrong reason.
“Good work, our lovely doctors!” The PR manager cheered, reading the public forums on the tablet. It honestly felt like the three of you are just mere celebrities who got famous overnight, and not physicians who work through the bone. “Up next, a meeting with the Prime Minister of Japan at 首相官邸 (Prime Minister’s Office). Our schedule is packed for the week ahead! Now let’s go go go!!!”
When you're busy, time flies by, you rarely have the time for yourself, solely focused on work. You looked out of the window of your humble home, the moon nowhere to be seen; stars hidden by the clouds. A subtle mist from an essential oil diffuser gently wafts through the air, filling the space with calming notes of lavender and eucalyptus that relax the mind and body. You always tout yourself as a strong individual, raised by strong-willed parents, and the unbreakable under pressure.
But sometimes? There’s a fraction in your heart that aches for you to let your guard down—an inner voice that wants you to fully experience what it feels like to break out of your skin-tethered iron armor you’re always adorned with; where you don’t have to be strong all the damn time; where you can sit on a bench without thinking about your responsibilities. Even though you give time for yourself, you still feel restless. It's an itch that no matter how much you scratch it or apply a massive amount of itch cream, it will always be prominent.
You glanced at the sentence you wrote in your journal notebook: If not now, when?
Uncremeniously, a tear slowly trails down your cheek, but you wipe it away with haste, “I’d better head to sleep. Tomorrow’s the last day of this damn public shit and I can finally rest on Saturday or maybe hone my quirk fighting skills and self-defense at the gym or something.”
The following evening, you’re at a pro-hero meeting as the only physician since Kim and Yuna are tasked with different things, respectively, with an energy drink in hand because coffee’s just not doing you justice for the past few days. It wasn’t overlooked that you downed three fucking energy drinks. It also didn’t help that you’re being wrung out by question after question, which you delivered to the best of your abilities, of course.
Maboromicamie’s compliment from three days ago infiltrated your inner thoughts, “Babes, you’re so in your boss bitch era.” I mean, hey! She’s not wrong, though, you smirked at the thought. While Hatsume spoke of logistics, typical hero stuff, your phone vibrated, and you felt your heart sink as you briefly read the message…
Kim (Medical Unit): They ran out of your favorite snack. Sorry girl :[
Are you fucking kidding me?! Your hands tightened around your phone, and the urge to lash out pulses through your veins. You sent a message back:
YOU: What the hell do you mean that it’s fucking out?!?! The clerk told me literally two days ago that they’re restocking? WTF.
It’s as if everything—stress, fatigue, and disappointment—collapses all at once, a tidal wave crashing down with no warning or mercy. Logic slips away, replaced by a raw, desperate need to break free from the suffocating pressure, even if it means losing control. You felt your head heat up, and a tension headache began to form. This was the final thread to your overworked self, but you felt a light tap on your shoulder.
“Doc?” Hatsume’s voice yanked you back from hell, jolting you out of your haze.
….everyone is staring. The air feels thick, the silence heavier than before. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on you, expectant and curious. The room feels suddenly smaller, the weight of all those gazes crushing, caught in a spotlight where you either want to vanish or hold yourself together. The crash you’d been fleeing now feels all the closer, but for a moment, you’re forced to stay grounded—visible, exposed, and completely on display.
“Ah, right, can you repeat what you were saying? I didn’t quite catch that.” you chalked up some stupid ass excuse. You were honestly glad that they didn’t press further, or you were going to drop a damn nuke on this building. Eventually, the meeting wraps up, your social battery flatlines, and all you want to do is take melatonin and sleep like a baby. You only gave a quick nod to whoever was nearby, a brisk pace, back straight, head high as if you’re not at the seams.
Typically, you’d just leave through the main doors of Todoroki’s agency like a normal person, but tonight, something gnaws at you to exit in the parking lot—to take a brief detour. Or maybe, just maybe, the need to be alone without having to explain. You took the side hallway, pushing the door open into the parking lot instead.
The night air hit differently here—cooler, heavier. The parking lot stretched out before you, mostly empty, bathed in the dull amber of flickering lights. There were no cars; It was nothing but short of a liminal space. You walked slower, footsteps sounding louder than they should.
You have a different kind of tiredness that seeps past muscle and bone, down into the center of who you are. It was nearly empty, quiet in that strange, echoing way that only late nights can hold.
The silence makes way for your thoughts to barge in unwelcome. The next thing you know, the breath you thought you had under control caught in your throat. Shoulders shook, eye stinging, now in a troubled fetal position by the cemented railing, the fabric at your arm clings, wet with tears you hadn’t meant to shed. Those tears that poured out of nowhere and everywhere all at once.
No one saw. Just the night. Just the silence. Just the parking lot…..
“I-i’m sorry. I know you w-wanted to go home...,” you sniffled, hugging yourself, to comfort yourself. You’re used to it, “I-im strong and i-independent..I can handle it.” Fresh tears trail down your cheeks as you sob, “I-i’ll go home..I just need the strength to pull through again.” You kept talking to yourself, giving words of affirmation and reassurance. You know you’ll pull through, “I-i can’t—” you sniffled, “I can’t show this. You know this…crying is a weak—”
“.....you’re not weak for crying.” That familiar gruff voice echoes in the parking lot, and you catch a glimpse of heavy boots in front of you.
You went still, controlling your shaky breath forcibly. To be honest, you don’t know who to fucking slap, you choosing to be a fucking drama queen by walking down the parking lot like you’re in some telenovela or the damn universe for sending the last person you don’t want to witness you at this state. “M’ just tired, so I chose to do this. I’ll be back up in a jiff.”
“Bullshit. You think I didn’t fuckin’ hear you crying at my agency’s parking lot? Or the fact that you downed three fuckin’ energy drinks like that shit won’t fuck up your system?” Bakugo’s way of words is unappealing, but his tone is different. You recognized it immediately—it’s something you also do to people you care about. He’s worried, but is too proud to show it.
For the first time, you have nothing to retort. “I..well—”
“Where do you live?”
With that, you whipped your head upwards at him, red-eyed and flabbergasted. Did he just..? His strong physique blocks the light behind him, casting a shadow. It’s like being saved by some guardian angel, except he’s a pain in the ass. He didn’t respond quickly, looking at you, too, taking in your deflated state. It stayed like this for a beat.
He finally speaks, voice now calm and even, “M’ taking you home.”
Your eyes grew wider, and you stood up fast, your professional attire uncrinkling, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, “No! It’s okay. I can walk home. I can handle myself. The train is five minutes away from the agency. It’s logical to walk there.”
“Walk? At this fucking time? None of the shit you just said is logical. I’ll drive you home—”
You try to argue, “I said—”
“Don’t be fucking stubborn, caffeine.”
“Caffeine?! I have a fucking name, dumbass! I just..! Urgh!” You facepalmed, eyes darting at anything but him, “I don’t want to ask for help and be bothersome...” your voice softening just a fraction at the vulnerability.
“Askin’ for help is not being a burden…If you don’t wanna go, then fuckin’ don’t, but don’t act like I didn’t offer.” He walks past you, hands in his pockets, leaving you there standing. He’s right, though…you’re an easy target because you’re a woman and a civilian.
“....wait!” You jog to the man, “Fine! I’ll..I’ll come with you! Just—slow down and walk with me side by side.” You absolutely did not mean to say the last bit, and you expected him to ignore that comment, but instead, he actually stopped and let you catch up to him, until you were both walking side by side on the way to his sleek black sports car—the only car left.
Neither of you spoke as he opened the front passenger’s seat before entering the driver’s seat. You peek behind you, seeing a big ass crash cushion on the backseat. You want to ask, but you’re too fucking tired, just settling with the assumption that it’s for pro-hero shit. He asked for your address before starting the engine, driving off.
The car stops at a red light, “Dyna—I mean—Bakugo..” You look out the window, it’s quiet, but comfortable silence engulfs you both, “thanks for you know…being there,” truth be told, you’re appreciative that he didn’t hover or smother you with pity; instead, he stayed steady—an anchor in that moment. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak or anything.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, “S’ impossible for someone to always have their shit together,” he rasps, “one way or the other, you’re bound to feel overwhelmed. It’s not a weakness to let your guard down when it happens. Hell, that’s real strength.” Bakugo’s voice was contemplative and grounding.
“Didn’t peg you as a guy who’d offer wisdom,” you snarked, a flush of warmth blooming in your chest, “..thanks.”
He just grunts in response, and a restful silence settles between you. You glance out the window again, drinking in the stillness of the empty street and the hush that blankets the city. There’s something about the steady hum of the engine, the faint, pleasant scent of his car, and the way he drives that makes your eyelids grow heavy.
You shifted more comfortably, the tension easing from your shoulders. Your expensive leather handbag sat on your lap as your head rested against the car’s side pillar, right where the seatbelt is anchored.
Throughout the ride, he doesn’t say much, just keeps his hand steady on the wheel. Somehow, that’s enough. For the first time, melatonin isn’t part of your night. And as your eyes close, the world outside feels less heavy.
Just finished the chapter 3..and will upload tmrw after proofreading. This chapter's 4, 583 words in total saur..longer than the last two chapters hehe + I'm expanding this fic to be seven chapters..methinks.
(Pro-Hero Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)
Omg thank you guys for reading my story. I was basically fangirling. Thanks for the feedback! I enjoy reading everyone's comment hehehe. It means a lot, esp. I am not a popular fic writer. Let me know if any of you guys wants to be added to a tag list! <3 Chapter 3 will also be up soon! (I'm using this as an excuse to not do any more image analysis of retina LOL)
For Chapter one, two, three, four, and five
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The gun shooting range echoes with the sharp crack of gunfire, its concrete lanes lined with paper targets and protective glass partitions. The air smells of gunpowder as you fire shot after shot at the now bullet-holed paper target. You quickly glance at the screen placed to your right, hung by the partition wall, opting to put the paper target from a far distance. You loaded six rounds into the pistol you’re holding and resumed, taking aim under the fluorescent lights.
To others, they’d think you’re some gun-crazed maniac, shooting with no pauses, but you don’t care because you’re in deep thought about the fact that a few days ago, Dr. Lee announced that you’re a part of the Medical Unit. Albeit you handled the unintentional attention from your colleagues and even the medical director well, you internally cringed when you remembered standing up at the podium, feeling awkward, and absolutely flabbergasted.
Will I be able to fit in? How should I stand? Should I tone down my assertiveness at work so that they won’t think I’m a bitch? “Fuck,” you grumbled when the slide of the gun went backwards and you had fix it. There’s a bajillion thoughts running in your head. Sometimes this trait is beneficial, as it helps you connect health issues that your patients experience into a diagnosis, allowing you to refer them to different specialists efficiently; however, at other times, like now, it has the opposite effect.
You don’t even want to get started on the influx of emails you began to receive. Ranging from a bunch of congratulations, students wishing to shadow you, work logistics, and, somehow, a promotional email of a perfume Shoto’s modelling in had managed to peek its way through your work email, which you didn’t erase because seeing his face in the ad calmed you.
Eventually, your time ran out, and you left the shooting range, walking into a room where you gave the rented gun to the desk and paid for the time you used it. You placed your eye and ear protective gear into your large carryall bag.
Stepping out of the building, you were met with the warmth of the sunny noon, light kissing your skin. The sky is clear, brilliant blue, and the world feels alive and vibrant under the midday sun. You sense good mood in everyone as you make your way to a modern and sleek woman-owned cafe that’s well-known for its famous Einspänner Lattes.
You arrived earlier than usual, not wanting to wait for an hour during the shop’s peak hours. When the barista sets out a matcha latte on the counter, your hand darts out to grab it, but it falls onto the woman with short brown hair, tied back, and two strands of brown hair on either side of her face. Eyes wide, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Let me help you,” quickly grabbing thick napkins from the dispenser, wiping the table counter
“Oh. It’s okay!” Her voice is warm, it sounds familiar for some reason, but you don’t mull over it.
“No, no, it’s not, I spilled a drink on you.”
She chuckles, a slight rose-colored blush tints her cheeks, “It’s not like it was all over me. I have spare clothes. It’s okay.” She takes the napkin and wipes the stain off her shirt. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Ok, well, let me treat you at least,” you assert, making up to this woman who just became a victim of your occasional clumsiness. She was about to interject, but refrained after you said, “It’s the least I can do. I insist.”
So there you are, paying for another overpriced matcha latte. You both sat next to each other, and to avoid awkwardness, you struck up a conversation, “I hope you weren’t on the way to your job or anything…”
“No. It’s my day off today,” she chirps, warm and friendly, “Just finished going to gym and chose to head here because Izuk—I mean I went here with someone a few days ago, so I want to try their matcha again and to take my mind off work..heh.”
You took a good look at her and noticed that her cheeks were starting to turn red. Is it because of heat? But you’re not one to pry, so you dropped it, “I understand. I was just at a gun shooting range, taking my mind off my job.” you chuckle lightly, “Recently, I just found out that I got into this position and it felt like being chucked into the lion’s den even though I applied to it.”
“Yeah, I can see why it could be nerve-wracking. For me? I have this counseling program that I’m just having some slight issues with. I’ve run it with the head of the departments, but to no avail,” she sighs. The barista gave the drink to her and left to clean up the remnants of the spilled drink. The café is starting to fill up with people, and a line is already forming outside.
You paused, “I suggest you try to have someone from a different lens to offer great insight for your program. That way, you’re negotiating with the knowledge that you have someone who adds another strong argument for your case.”
She looks at you with big, brown eyes, inquisitive, “Yeah…oh!” She stands up abruptly, “I have to go! It’s nice talking with you, miss...”
“Y/N,” you smile, “and good luck!”
Weeks passed after that matcha interaction, and you’ve been fulfilling your usual duties as a physician. You’re on autopilot, work starting to pile up now that you’re in the Medical Unit. It got to a point where one of your friends had to drag you out of your desk to go out, emphasizing that it’s important to relax, and they’re right, but you won’t admit it. You also met the other two doctors who were accepted into the unit.
Dr. Kim is a whirlwind of energy and sunshine, always smiling and filled with excitement that spills over into her work persona. It makes people less intimidated by her, yet the respect remains. On the other hand, Dr. Yuna is a composed individual, analytical, introspective, and has steady eyes that miss nothing. You? Well, you’re the one who exudes authority—brows furrowed in focus, which could easily be mistaken for a resting bitch face. You possess a quiet confidence that commands respect, making people sit up straight and take notice of you. I’m just doing my job, you clipped your hair up, but balance is important, I guess… You skim through a file that was sent to you by Dr. Yuna.
It refers to the funding issue Uravity has for her quirk counseling program. You reviewed her past reports, concluding that her only problem was easily solvable—she only needed a physician’s note to help her case. You blinked. “There’s no fucking way..” You reread the file, remembering the lady you treated with matcha. The rose colored cheeks, that warm voice, the round eyes, and wearing a cap inside the shop, “I met Uravity and I had no idea….”
Days flew by, and the three of you now stood under the scrutinizing gaze of the pro-heroes.
Dr. Yuna was flipping through the packet, adding information from time to time as Dr. Kim spoke eloquently, while you stood there, arms crossed, eyes darting to each hero in an attempt to match their respective intensities. You see familiar faces and goddamn, they all look good.
Creati raises her hand, “Does the Medical Unit need someone to defend them?” she asks politely.
You learned to wield eye contact like a spell—to draw others in, leaving them nowhere to hide, so you use that to your advantage. “We don’t need defense necessarily,” you finally spoke, voice loud and clear, garnering everyone’s attention, “The Medical Unit is not created to be a burden. We’re here to integrate the field of healthcare into each sector. Thus, improving everyone’s quality of life. For instance, if a war breaks out again, you’re wondering how the Medical Unit can help. We help by making sure that the medical resources reach evacuation places in rural areas diligently,” glancing at Dynamight, before refocusing your attention on Creati.
After the meeting, there was no time for networking as the three of you had to move on to the next agenda, briefly wishing the heroes well and leaving. Soon thereafter, afternoon turns into night, you find yourself wanting to just collapse in your humble abode and sleep all day, but work is still not over, and now you’re heading towards the Fast Track Zone in the Emergency Department because, for some reason, nurses and physicians don’t want to treat this man.
“Man, come on. Just…you’re bruised on the chest!”
“I have a fucking ice pack at home. I don’t need to be here,” a loud raspy voice echoed in the area, and you literally saw nurses intake a sharp breath.
This commotion is wearing your patience thin as you’re running on caffeine and adrenaline. Maybe he’s just anxious. You quickly relax, expecting to face an unpleasant civilian sitting on the treatment stretcher. What you didn’t expect was that the man is the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. God, he’s even more attractive in real life.
“Hi, doc!” Red Riot smiles, “Well, you see, my friend here got bruised during the patrol.”
“Ah, I see,” you say coolly, trying to remain unfazed while feeling Dynamight’s red eyes boring into you like hot coals, as if they could melt the side of your face. “Red Riot, tell me what occurred,” you start, putting on disposable gloves.
“Well, we were chasing the villain, and he got hit on his chest.” he grins, “Wait, are you the doctor from the medical unit and the one who dropped the house key on the street?”
You adjusted the stethoscope around your neck, smiling a little, “Yeah.”
“What you did at the meeting was so manly! I admire the work you guys do! It must be really hectic since it’s new. Oh, and just call me Kirishima!” Red Rio—err—Kirishima’s bright energy contrasts with whatever vibe Dynamight’s trying to aim for at this time.
“Thanks—”
Dynamight clicks his tongue, cutting you off, “I ain’t tryna be here all night with both of you chatting like this shit’s some social gathering.”
Honestly, he may be handsome, but he’s turning the calm atmosphere sour. “Stop being such a drama queen, now take your top off,” you blurted, which you didn’t mean to, but the damage has been done because now you see an amused Kirishima in your peripheral vision.
“Hah?!” Dynamight’s eye twitched, “Why the fuck should I?! I only need an ice pa—”
“Because I have to see if there is swelling or other physical signs that might complicate your situation. For example, difficulty breathing,” you argued and quickly decided to not let this man get to you just to de-escalate the situation, “Just take it off so we can all separate ways.” You’ve seen people shirtless before. Hell, you even saw a lot of naked bodies in your line of work, so this shouldn’t be new.
He begrudgingly cooperated. You step closer to inspect the growing bruise on his chest.
He’s all lean muscle and sharp lines—broad shoulders tapering into a sculpted torso, scars littered around him, some faint, some prominent. Each muscle is defined like it were carved with intent. You hummed, avoiding his watchful gaze, “Ok so—” you look up and your breath hitched as his eyes darted downwards to meet yours.
“So?” he grumbles, both hands resting on the stretcher, slightly leaning back.
“So…there are no signs of swelling, but I suggest monitoring them for any signs of worsening symptoms.” You quickly backed away, walking towards the garbage bin to throw your gloves even though you didn’t touch him. “Put an ice pack and take pain killers,” you say, opening a drawer where the instant cold pack is stored , your brain in ‘work’ mode. You walk towards him, now with his shirt on. “If you don’t, it's gonna get worse,” you rambled, heart beating like drums.
“Thanks, doc!” Kirishima smiles, answering for his friend.
You bid them farewell, making a beeline for the restroom to recuperate. You stopped in front of a mirror, took deep breaths, and said, “I am a professional.” You shook your head, hands gripping the sink, “Why the hell am I acting like a giddy teenager over some shirtless guy. It’s not that serious.”
The guy is Dynamight. The one people fawn over. This man could get whoever the fuck he wants with just a smirk. I’m standing in the middle—
Now you’re pacing back and forth, “It’s just work. It’s nothing serious. We just made eye contact. It’s nothing romantic. Yeah! Yea—”
You turn around to see the old janitor, “Oh, are you using the restroom—I mean! Cleaning the area?”
“Yes, doc.”
You made your way out, “Right…well, uh, have a great afternoon.” It’s midnight.
Chapter three is gonna be quite longer than I've expected LOLL . Also I may or may not extend the fic until 7 chapters instead of 5 because I've actually finished my plot skeleton and I gotta make sure it's thorough and well fleshed (we'll see)
Late night thought
if Katsuki were really bout to act like he's in shojo..he'd romantically act like Tsukasa Domyoji from Hana Yori Dango/Boys Over Flowers and Shoto would be Hanazawa Rui (2nd love interest). You? You're Tsukushi Makino...
I initially thought my Bakugo phase from 2021 would die out eventually...but here I am making a Bakugo x reader fic in 2025
Also like the way I was fighting people left n right bc they were mischaracterizing him even going as far as to defending the other character from him..when it comes from ships that's based off of one interaction and human decency </3 but then again it's just fandom stuff so I just block and move on w my life . Idk man I'm objective and aren't into shipping. I'm the type to be onboard with a ship that makes sense saur..
