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apartment complex ennui
[katsuki bakugo Ă— f!reader // sfw // multichapter]
→ bakugo is stuck in his apartment after suffering a leg injury on the job. in the aftermath, you, a complete stranger and next-door neighbor, offer to help him in his journey to recovery all while learning about each other.
she calls for me
[hawks Ă— f!reader // sfw // multichapter]
→ hawks visits giran and discovers the fascinating creature he keeps in an aquarium, you. after spending weeks not being able to keep you off his mind, he learns about your true identity thanks to a convenient twist of fate.
katsuki bakugo x f!reader
alternative title: your boring neighbor
content warning: small mentions of bodily injury, nothing graphic.
word count: 2.1 k
chapter premise: bakugo is stuck in his apartment after suffering a leg injury on the job. since he can't stand up for long periods of time, and, therefore, can't cook for himself, he orders takeout. chaos ensues.
a/n: hello! this is my first work after quite a long hiatus. any and all feedback is appreciated! since i want this to be a multichapter thingy, i'm already working on part two. that should be out in a few days.
extra special thanks to the lovely shay (@sipsteainanxiety) for proofreading this!
Ever since joining the workforce, Katsuki has come to the following realization: He loathes being unproductive.
Working from dusk until dawn, either patrolling into the late hours of the night or wasting away filling and filing paperwork, became his new normal straight after graduation. He never complained about it, though. Keeping his head, and body, for that matter, occupied with anything else other than much of the guilt that loomed over his psyche day in and day out was a win in his books. That kind of productivity that nothing but something of force majeure (or rather, a careless mistake made while operating on autopilot) could bring to a halt.
As he lays down on his couch, Katsuki slowly, but surely, shifts his weight so that the slight yet uncomfortable pressure he feels on his casted leg ceases to stab pins and needles into his still very sensitive bones, grumbling and cursing under his breath.
Broken tibia. Specifically, broken in 3 places after some stray debris crushed his right calf in the midst of saving a civilian from being crushed themselves. Estimated recovery time: three to six months.
Forget joining the workforce. Joining the workforce and THEN being put out of commission from said workforce was the thing he found himself abhorring the most. Having something so integral to his lifestyle (and so tightly knit into the fabric of the already questionable state of his mental health) taken away from him was thoroughly messing with his head. If it were for him, he’d be back in the agency after a week or two of downtime. But he knew better. Recovery Girl wasn’t there at his beck and call anymore like back in high school.
Katsuki sighs, mindlessly looking around his apartment. From where he lies, he can see most of it. As he faces forward, his gaze lingers over the front door, which leads to the living room, and, further down, to the hallway containing the master and guest bedrooms. To his right, he can see the dining table and the kitchen. He is quite fond of his apartment, his favorite of its features being the large open spaces it provides.
Well, it was his favorite whenever said large open spaces were clean. He hasn’t been able to properly stand up, much less do any housework, in about a week, so the chores have been piling up for a while now. His mother mentioned in passing, after visiting him at the hospital, that she’d be over to help around so that he didn’t exert himself cleaning and cooking for himself, but said “promise” had yet to come to fruition.
Forget being unproductive. Feeling remarkably useless and powerless is even worse.
Yet again, he groans when he listens to his stomach growling for the third time in the past hour. His food order is taking forever. He’s not the biggest fan of throwing away his income ordering takeout every other day of the week, but there’s nothing much he can do if it involves standing up for prolonged periods of time. However, as if having conjured his delivery person by complaining mentally for the umpteenth time, the buzzer in his apartment goes off.
Katsuki wastes no time in getting up from the couch with the help of his crutches, hurrying to answer. “Yes?” He makes his best attempt at not sounding desperate.
“Akiyama here, looking for Mr. Bakugo. I have his order from Narisawa.”
“That’s me. Coming. I’m in crutches, so I might take a while to come down.”Â
“No problem, sir.”
With that, Katsuki maneuvers his walking aids and opens the front door. Nonetheless, in his wish to speed up the acquisition of his much-desired meal, his left crutch manages to get stuck in the door frame while he’s about to lock up behind himself.
“Shit!”
Needless to say, he loses balance quickly and ends up falling forward. His crutches slam down by his sides, the ungracious banging of both metals aids resounding in the hallway.
Thankfully, his aptly honed and quick reflexes allow him to stop himself from smashing his face against the floor, sticking both of his arms forward to break his fall and landing him in a push-up position.
He finds himself staring at the floor and feeling his heart drop at the thought of breaking another bone in his body that would prevent him from making a swift recovery just because he was ridiculously hungry.
Katsuki assesses the situation before moving an inch of any of his extremities. Fortunately, he managed to avoid his certain doom by having the foresight to lift his injured leg before it came into contact with the floor. Either way, his moving options are limited, since they rely on his healthy leg and both of his arms.
“Okay, how are we doing this…” he contemplates out loud, his thoughts being abruptly stopped as he hears the door to his left unlock and open. Turning his head to the source of the noise, he is met with what would soon become a sight for sore eyes.Â
There you are, one foot out the door, compelled to stare back at him, eyes wide in disbelief and limbs frozen in place. Your mouth is stretched in a thin line, one which signifies to Katsuki that you’re really at a loss for words at the situation. Regardless, you scrutinize him whole, and when you appear to come to terms with what you’re witnessing, you rush over to him and kneel down to his side.
“Oh God, are you okay? Here, let me help...” Your voice lacks conviction, and your actions do too. You’re jittery, flailing, and trying to figure out where to place your hands so you can help him up.
Katsuki never really made time, nor willingly ventured, to meet his neighbors. In his 20 years of life on this earth, he never came to understand pleasantries but did eventually grow accustomed to dealing with civilians in a mildly educated manner. This situation called for his newly learned skill.
“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my delivery person is waiting with my breakfast downstairs and if I’m not in the lobby in 5 minutes, he’ll leave.” His nowhere-near-dulcet tones catch you off guard, and you immediately stop your futile attempts at aiding him to listen to him intently. “You’d be a huge help if you went down to receive my order and brought it back. I can get up by myself just fine.”
“Okay!” Having understood your directive without hesitation, you nod your head several times, standing up and scurrying down the hallway, out of sight in mere seconds.
Back in his apartment, after getting himself off the floor and moseying over to his dining table, he sits down facing the front door and waits eagerly, and impatiently, for your return. Bouncing his healthy leg up and down, Katsuki stares mindlessly at his smartphone in an attempt to take his mind off how hungry he is.
A few minutes later, his attention is pulled to the three knocks heard over at his door. He wants to run over and finally get a glimpse of his long-awaited meal, but he’s now well aware of the consequences of rushing with only the fulfillment of his primary needs in mind.
“Door’s open, come in.” Keeping his tone as calm as he could muster, he stares desperately as you turn the doorknob and let yourself inside. You’re holding a large, brown paper bag, and a big, white plastic sealed bowl, but you set it down on the floor as you take off your sneakers and change to a pair of slippers meant for guests.
Katsuki feels like he’s sweating bullets watching how slowly you make your way further down the apartment. When you reach your destination by the table, you set the takeout down. He wastes no time in tearing apart the paper bag and breaking the container where his tamagoyaki and grilled fish reside. With metal chopsticks in hand, his attention is fully on his salvation from starvation.
He can hear a distant “Here’s… your miso soup”, but he’s too busy to notice that you end up just standing there after lowering the plastic bowl onto the table, staring at him as he wolfs down his breakfast.
However, It doesn’t take long for him to start choking on the amount of food he’s cramming inside his mouth, his coughing and shortness of breath being the only things capable of disrupting his concentration. His eyes water, but only then does he remember there’s supposed to be somebody else in the vicinity.
Ingesting the amorphous mass of food in his buccal cavity, he veers his attention to you after stabilizing his air intake. “What?” is his response to finding you still staring at him.
Your eyes widen yet again when his attention is back on you, and you avert your gaze before you speak. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… make you uncomfortable. I should leave now.” Even so, you keep in place, as if waiting for his permission to leave.
Katsuki opens his mouth to say something but ultimately stops himself before letting out something callous. “I don’t like how you’re just standing there, you can just sit down.”
Well, that could’ve been worded a bit better, but you don’t appear to mind, since you do take a seat next to him, your movements awkward yet urgent. He slows down the pace at which he puts any food in his mouth, leaving room for him to speak more comfortably. “Thanks for picking up my food, I was starving.”
“No problem,” you respond, only to let the conversation die shortly after. Whatever. Katsuki thinks to himself that he won’t push you to keep talking to him if you don’t want to. However, you clear your throat, reading yourself to speak again. “What happened to you?”
“Work injury. Broken tibia. Need to wear this damn cast for the next three months,” he replies.
“Oh.” You nod once as if processing and registering this information. “I’m guessing this is recent, then.”
“Yeah, I was just discharged from the hospital last week,” he starts. “My mother was supposed to come over to help out, but I haven’t heard from her.” Looking around discreetly, he sighs. “This place’s a dump.”
“I don’t mind, my apartment looks like this most of the time,” you admit, a stiff smile finding its way over your lips.
Katsuki hums in response, mostly because he’s unsure as to how one’s supposed to respond when having nothing as a frame of reference.
Accordingly, and since it’s only sensible considering you are a stranger inside his home, he decides it wouldn’t hurt to look you over to assess the situation. Call him paranoid, but some things tend to stick with you in his line of work.
Pretending to still be focused on his grilled fish, Katsuki ever so slightly veers his head just enough to look at you.
First off, it’s hard not to notice the way you’re sitting down. Stiff as a board, legs pressed against one another and hands intertwined with each other resting over your lap, anxiously alternating between twiddling your thumbs and clicking your nails together.
You’re wearing loose sweatpants and an oversized sweater. Fashion choice or fear of being perceived? Moving up, he’s thankful you’ve been avoiding looking at him so he can actually check out your face. Mostly clear skin, some breakouts here and there. Eyebags deep, scleras red. Evident lack of sleep. No makeup, you probably just washed your face, brushed up your eyebrows, and stepped out the door. Hair carelessly thrown up in a clip, a few stray strands poking through. You’re most likely around his age, maybe one or two years older at best. Considering you’ve been clearing your throat constantly in such a short span of time, he assumes you haven’t even done as much as drink water since waking up.
Satisfied with his deductions and taking everything into account, he has no reason to presume you’re someone suspicious or dangerous. At least now he can keep eating in peace.
“So, uh…” you mutter, subsequently clearing your throat yet again. “I’m not a professional by any means, but if you need someone to help around while you figure stuff out, I can… You know… You look like you could use some help.”
As if automatically, Katsuki turns to look at you yet again, quite surprised by your sudden offer.
When your eyes meet, slight panic paints your features. “…This must be really weird coming from a stranger, what was I thinking?” You laugh off your proposal immediately. “Sorry, forget I said anything.” You scramble to get yourself up from the chair, power walking to the door without looking back. “See you around.” And with that, you’re gone.
Katsuki stays fixated on the door after you close it behind you. Blinking a couple of times before turning back and staring at what’s left of his food, he thinks out loud.
katsuki bakugo x f!reader.
part one: you're going to carry that weight
content warning:Â none.
word count: 2.5 k
chapter premise:Â bakugo receives an invitation to kaminari's wedding and he's upset about it. not because of the occasion, but because he knows that attending means meeting one person he thought he had already left behind for good: you.
a/n:Â hello! this is a complete overhaul (heh) of an old work of mine that i was never too satisfied with. the original finished product felt bare bones to me, but now that i'm older and wiser, i feel better prepared to tackle the themes of this story. this is a two-parter, part two will be posted sometime tomorrow? or Sunday? it's mostly done but i can't stop changing things around, ugh.
extra special thanks to cookie and pika (whose urls i was too shy to ask for) for beta reading this!
Weddings! Who doesn’t love weddings?
Bakugo. Bakugo despises weddings.
All the pomp, circumstance, and fanfare of the occasion has never been his style. The fact that his peers would actively choose to waste time on organizing and participating in mindless festivities instead of fully dedicating themselves to their hero work is something he finds particularly mind-boggling. A part of him had been dreading the moment his friends got infected with the wedding craze and started getting married one after the other, mostly because he would be invited, and, therefore, would feel obligated to attend.
He really thought any celebrations to come would happen at least a couple of years after they all graduated high school, or not at all if he got lucky.
Oh sweet, innocent Katsuki.
YOU’RE INVITED
TO DENKI KAMINARI AND AKARI KATSURAGI’S WEDDING!
Of course. OF COURSE, Dunce Face is the first one to get the craze going just six months after graduating. Fantastic!
He crumples up the wedding invitation he received in his hands, soaking the translucent vellum paper with his caramel sweat. He means that as an obvious threat, he can’t help wanting to blow it up to smithereens.
Katsuki tosses the invite’s envelope across his bed, groaning in the process. He doesn’t pay much mind to the damn thing until a small piece of paper flies out of it and lands on his sheets. Picking it up and holding it up to read it, the note reads:
Kacchan! Just letting you know you’ve been appointed one of my best men! No ifs, whats or buts! Bring a date!
Taking the small note in both hands now, he rips it to shreds. He shouldn’t be as annoyed as he is. Honestly, it’s not like he would’ve missed the event if he hadn’t been appointed a groomsman. Let it be known that he’s more irked at the fact that he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.Â
He’s a busy man! His patrols and work commitments tend to be planned a month in advance! Who knows if his schedule will allow him to attend the wedding? Ugh, now he has to talk to his agency and ask around to find someone willing to cover the shifts he’ll miss. He also has to go shopping for a present for the newlyweds, and buy a new tuxedo because he’s sure the one in his closet won’t fit anymore and find a date—
Wait, find a date? For Kaminari’s wedding? Where most of the guests will be U.A. alumni? Wouldn’t that mean—
Yeah, he knows exactly what it means. You’ll be there. You were really close to Akari in high school, you wouldn’t miss her wedding for anything in the world. Man, how long has it been since he last saw you? A year and a half? Maybe more. You were a second-year student when the two of you met, and you ended up graduating a year before him and his class.
A familiar sinking feeling manifests in his chest, that one that always lacerates him when his mind decides to wander back to his memories of you. These days, the one thing he can do to keep his sanity is close the door on them and run in the opposite direction to keep them from clawing at his conscience. Needless to say, these are futile attempts, because he can’t keep them from plaguing his every waking moment. They are always vivid, perpetually tempting…
Whatever. Fuck that. He can’t believe he still gets sappy thinking about you after all this time.
Besides, he is getting ahead of himself. Even if it’s slim, there’s a chance you won’t even be there anyway. Kirishima and the others always mention how crazy busy you are with work lately. Nowadays, passing whispers and traveling rumors are his only source of information about you ever since that day.
The ringing of the last school bell earns a sigh of contentment from almost everyone in the classroom. The vast majority of Class 2-A’s students stand up to pick up their things and dart out of the vicinity as fast as humanly possible. Quite understandable, being Friday and all, they probably have better plans than hanging out at school past 3:00 PM. Now that March had arrived, the weather had grown agreeable enough for outdoor activities to resume.
Katsuki finds himself mindlessly looking at his classmates as they exit the room one by one. Soon growing tired of it, he pulls out his phone from his school bag and opens his messaging app, repeating what he’s been doing nonstop since the night before.
[senpai] you probably already know this, but i'm graduating tomorrow.
He remembers reading your message at 8 pm last night. He has been staring vacantly at the message on and off ever since you sent it. Reprising this recent routine, he scrolls slightly up your chat and reads your last few words to him.
[senpai] i shouldn’t have to say it, but i feel like i have to because you’ve been avoiding me for god knows how long.
That’s right, the silent treatment he had decided to give you is coming up on its third week if he remembers correctly. If he ever went a long period of time without contact, it was mostly due to his school responsibilities, never voluntarily. However, this time it was completely done of his own volition. A sigh escapes his lips, every single ounce of the resolve he had managed to summon threatening to ditch him as well. He hates this. He hates all of this. Why is he doing it, again? He feels like shit for imposing this no-contact rule on himself, and he abhors how viscerally aware he is of how you must be feeling about it yourself.
[senpai] i’ll be waiting for you behind the auditorium after the ceremony ends.
[senpai] i expect your answer by then.
An answer, you claim. However, he knows what you want is more of an admission. An admission of what he already knows, of what he had hoped you already knew as well. Setting his phone down on his desk, he folds his arms over the wooden surface and unceremoniously drops his forehead down on his forearms, clearly not thinking about what whoever is still present in the room would think. This is hell, his own personal hell.
“Hey,” A distant voice calls to him while he’s lost in his inner lamentations. It is only when the owner of said voice pats him gently over the shoulder that he snaps out of it. “we’re heading to Senpai’s ceremony now, sure you’re not coming?”
As if turning on a switch to put his woes in the backburner, Bakugo immediately jumps up and sits straight. Looking to his side, he finds Kirishima sporting a sympathetic smile. Next to him, there’s Kaminari and his dopey-ass smile on full display. “Senpai will be sad if you aren’t there, Kacchan!” Denki adds.
If being reminded of how you’ll feel if he doesn’t show up wasn’t enough, being called Kacchan on top of that surely did it for him. Bakugo slaps Kirishima’s hand away, turning to face away from both of his classmates and standing up with his phone and schoolbag in hand. “I already told you people I’m not going. Piss off.”
“All of us have been saying this for the past few weeks, but you’re going to regret it if you don’t go.” Mina asserts from where she stands by her own desk, leaning over it as she contemplates the whole ordeal from a safe distance as Sero stands cross-armed to her side. “In the words of the great Cowboy Bebop, you’re going to carry that weight.” He condemns.
This is one of those times Bakugo staunchly regrets having introduced (or, regrets being forced to introduce you after being caught sneaking around) you to his friend group. Everyone already knew what was going on, having gotten both sides of the story yet trying not to pick sides because you had already become an integral part of their squad. They valued your friendship as much as they did Bakugo’s, and, as such, only had both of your best interests in mind.
Yet, Katsuki has already become steadfast in his final decision. Sadly, there’s nothing anyone can say at this point that can make him change his mind. Gritting his teeth and ridding himself of any abject doubts, he declares: “It’s none of your business.”
Regret bitter as gall besets in his mouth.
And it’s only when he’s faced with the consequences of his actions that he wishes things could’ve played out differently. Then again, he always comes back to acknowledge that he only has himself to blame for his woes.
After arriving at his dorm room, Katsuki decided to shut himself in to play video games until his brain melted. Probably not the best method to keep his mind away from his current concern, but he couldn’t risk being outside and running into you after the ceremony came to an end. He knew that if he came face to face with you, his determination would falter and he would crumble at your feet.
He checks his phone to see what time it is: 7:50 pm. Looks like it’s time to turn in for the night. He’ll need to wake up as early as possible in order to make up for the personal training he skipped today. Taking his headphones off and turning off his handheld console, he stands up from where he sat on the floor and stretches.
After finishing his nighttime routine, he’s finally ready to lie in bed and be done with this fucking day. He truly hopes that after today, everything will be a little bit easier, not only for you but for himself as well.
Unfortunately for him, his phone rings just as he’s about to doze off. Directing his death glare at the ceiling for a brief moment, he reaches over to his nightstand, where his mobile device rests. Checking the time before acknowledging the caller, he notices it’s 8 pm on the dot. He yawns, his eyes watering. Who could it be?
Mindlessly pressing the answer prompt, he greets. “What?”
“It’s me.”
Your voice startles him awake. So much so that he’s sitting up straight in mere milliseconds.
“You were about to go to sleep, right?”
Katsuki listens to how candidly raspy, uncharacteristically low, and worryingly tremulous your voice sounds. “Yeah.” He’s terribly concerned, and as such, he can’t help but default to his more caring nature. “You’ve been crying.” He points out, matter-of-factly.
“What?” Your sudden and loud sniffling confirms his assumptions. “Of course, I’ve been crying, I’m—” Before finishing your sentence, you suck in a deep breath, exhaling through teeters and trembles, as if to steady your heart. “I’m really, really upset. So, you’re going to listen to me.”
He turns his body to let his legs hang down from the bed, his left hand supporting part of his weight while he holds his phone with the other. Lamentably, the only thing he can do at this point is obediently heed your words.
“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet for thinking you’d actually come, I know. Even so, I held out hope. Even when the sun went down, I waited for you. I’m such a dumbass” You’re struggling not to break down.
Katsuki is frozen in place, but his whole body feels restless. His fingers grip at his sheets, his teeth gritting in perpetual vexation. Blood rushes all the way to his face, not in embarrassment, but in irritation. He can feel his heart’s deafening beats resounding in his eardrums. He is on edge, perfectly aware of the fact that it is his fault that you’re at your breaking point right now.
“But okay. I get it. I’ll take the hint now. You really don't care about me, at all.” You force an acrimonious laugh that he knows all too well. “Once I’m gone, that’s it, you know?”
He’s fully aware. He thoroughly is, so much so that it’s scary, but the things he could say to bring to your attention how much he adores you go against his better judgment. He’d hoped you’d be satisfied with his attention, and his dedicated acts of service. He wanted to convince himself that they would always be enough.
“I know.”
These feelings are dreadful. They terrify him.
“And you’re really willing to throw everything away? Just like that?”
He can’t answer that. You must know he won’t because as soon as he hears a quivering sigh coming from the other side of the line, he acknowledges that you’ve given up.
“I see.”
He still remembers avoiding places where you would hang out with your friends, or the ones you frequented around campus to train. It proves to be hard, considering that both of you were hardwired to head for those locations in your spare time. The first few times, you try to strike up menial conversations with him. After that, you opt for only gracing him with a cordial smile, a short curtsy always ending your limited interactions, which is probably for the best.
By the end of March, the school year has ended and you’ve moved out of UA. With this, he’s filled with a false sense of tranquility.
Pros: He won’t see you around campus anymore!
Cons: He won’t see you around campus anymore…
By the start of the next semester in April, he thinks he has grown accustomed to your absence, but it turns out he hasn’t. It fucking sucks. He hates it. Fuck, he misses you. You’d become an integral part of his daily routine, and he goes through an acute withdrawal phase now that you’re actually gone. Katsuki’s desire to beat the shit out of anyone who crosses his path or looks at him the wrong way grows by the day. He’s livid, upset beyond reason. And so, he spends his last year at UA about to snap. He’d never admit it, but, the one he’s upset at the most is himself.
His friends catch him asking way too many questions about you at times since he knows you stay in contact with them. This only invites them to tease him, which in turn makes him grow more frustrated with his reality; it all circles back to the fact that he does want to see you, painfully so.
Katsuki is deprived. Every inch of his body and soul aches to see you again.
Some nights, he finds himself unable to sleep, recollections of you playing like a movie in his mind. He’s particularly fond of that one memory of your first kiss in your dorm’s common room. He reminisces about how you two were sitting on the floor, and about how exhilarating the thought of getting caught by a teacher or any of your classmates was. When you pulled back, your face was beet red. He himself was probably burning up as well. Your hands were balled up on your lap, too shy to actually reach out and hang onto him. His own rested on both of your shoulders after much inner deliberation regarding where it would be appropriate to place them.
Scenes of many other kisses you steal from each other replay on a loop. Katsuki’s fingers trace over his own lips and then linger as if trying to recreate your silky touch. And, at the end of the day, that’s all he has left.
Hauntingly lucid memories.
footnote: okay so, i wanted to add some information here just in case you aren't aware of how school years are divided in Japan!
the school year begins in April and ends in March of the following year.
most schools adopt a three-semester system, with the first semester from April to August, the second semester from September to December, and the third semester from January to March
this is mostly why i made it a point to state what month some events went down. maybe it's just me but i'm a sucker for this kind of accuracy, feel free to ignore if you don't care heh.
content warning:Â character death, mentions of blood and gore, explicit descriptions of physical violence, implied sexual violence, kidnapping (mentioned).
word count: 3.4 k
premise: for reasons unknown to you, shigaraki comes back to your shared room bloodied, beaten, and unable to stand up. you, his darling prisoner, don't really care about whatever has happened to him. however, your interest is piqued when you notice that he has left the door to your gilded cage open behind him.
a/n: hello! this was supposed to be a drabble to help me work my writing muscles bc i've in a slump, but i'm sure you can tell it got out of hand lol. any feedback is appreciated and welcome!
After opening the door of the bathroom and stepping into Shigaraki’s room, you notice he isn’t here yet. Looking up to the wall where the clock tended to mock you throughout the day, you notice it’s well past the time he usually came back to check on you.Â
Well, checking on you might be a bit too kind of a description. Most of what he did as of late was hop in the shower, strongarm you into fulfilling your duties as his abductee, play videogames then go to sleep.
Still, you’re thankful he hasn’t come back. Being used as a sex doll for hours on end was by far your least favorite part of the day, so you’ll take whatever win you can get at this point. Unwrapping your towel from where it covered your body and using it to throw your hair up, you step further into the room and reach the bed, where your nightly uniform lay.Â
He usually selects something for you from the pile of copious amounts of lingerie and cosplays he keeps buying for you, and then neatly hangs it on the full-length mirror next to your closet for you to notice. Every time you look at whatever he’s chosen for the day you want to bang your head against the wall until you lose consciousness, but there’s nothing much you can do about it. It certainly beats being naked, considering you’re not allowed to use anything that hasn’t been handpicked by him.
When you finish changing into the Pornhub version of an Evangelion character cosplay you’ve been assigned, you walk over to your vanity and start working on styling your hair and doing your makeup. He likes it when you do a fox eye and wear a lot of blush. You can’t be bothered to wear the matching wig of this clown costume tonight, so you hope that working extra hard on your makeup will make him forget about it.
However, as you’re about to start working on your eyeliner, you hear noises coming from outside the room’s door. Thinking it’s probably the other members of the organization turning in for the night, you don’t bother too much and carry on with your business. It’s not until there's a loud bang on the door and a strenuous thud on the floor that you jump from your seat and rush over to check what in the world is going on.
“Hello?” You exclaim.Â
Silence.
“Anyone there?” You press your ear to the door in an attempt to detect any more noise or movement. A part of you is hopeful, maybe you’re finally getting out of here! Nobody dared to even come close to Shigaraki’s room, so this was either him playing a prank on you or someone coming to your rescue!
“Ngh…” Was that… a groan? Yes, it was. A very familiar one at that.
“Tomura?” You call out to him by his given name. Nothing makes your skin crawl more than having to call him by his name, but, again, nothing much you could do about it since it was a direct order from him.
You receive no response, instead hearing more clatter from beyond the door. At least you’ve confirmed it is him now, so you have no more reason to be concerned, he’ll probably lose his shit if he finds you standing this close to the door anyway. Sauntering back to your vanity, there’s more banging and scratching until you listen to the sound of the entrance’s keypad unlocking and opening.
In all truth, you can’t be bothered to look at him as he walks through the entrance, the least amount of time you spend facing him the better. Picking up where you left off, you grab your blush brush with every intention of finishing your makeup until you hear yet again something hit the floor. This is enough for you to finally make yourself look over, where you find Shigaraki lying on the floor face down.
“What the fuck…” you mutter. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
No response.
“Tomura?” You’re disgusted by the mild concern in your voice as you call to him yet again, mostly because this mild distress keeps you distracted from the real matter at hand. Lifting your gaze slightly up from where Shigaraki lies, you gasp at your discovery.
The door’s open.
Is this really happening? Did the best-case scenario just materialize in front of your very eyes? An incapacitated Shigaraki and a wide open door ready for you to ditch this miserable life behind?
Your legs are already moving towards freedom before you know it, but they stop when they reach the position of the man that’s cast unimaginable horrors upon you. Still, you feel compelled to look down on him. His clothes are completely ripped, his torn-up shirt making it easy for you to see the bruises that plague his powdered ash skin. He also has a considerable number of cuts and scratches all over his back. Damn, all that blood is going to stain the carpet.
Whatever, not your circus, not your monkeys. You look ahead and take a deep breath as if psyching yourself up. There’s still a long road ahead, you’re certain the security is tight around here, but you’d rather take your chance now than regret not being bold enough to do it later. You’re not ecstatic about reentering the world in slutty cosplay, but we win some and lose some.
As you’re about to take your first step out of this godforsaken enclosure, four cold fingers wrap around your ankle in a meager effort to keep you in place. “[First]…” Shigaraki groans lifting his head ever so slightly, his pastel arctic mop of hair obscuring his features. “Please…”
The desperation in his voice makes your body run cold. You catch a peek of his obscured scarlet eyes when you instinctively turn to see what’s holding you down. It would be very easy for you to stomp all over him so he lets go of you, but you can’t bring yourself to move.
Shigaraki has never shown any kindness to you. You’ve always thought his idea of kindness was smothering you with expensive gifts, makeup, clothes–material possessions that served the purpose of fueling his enjoyment of you as his doll without taking into account your personhood. He had made it his mission to tear you down body and soul so you would be ripe for his taking. It’s always been about him. Any act of violence you so chose to commit against him would be justified.
Then, why are you still doubting yourself? You can get out now, if there has ever been a time to take back your life, it is here and now.
Hands clench into fists, nails dig into palms, beckoning blood. He has left you to your own devices in the same position he is in many a time before. You don’t owe him any kindness, none at all. Why can’t you bring yourself to just leave him behind?
Well, because that wouldn’t make you any different from him.
Prying your leg away from his hand, your latex costume creaks as you kneel down. “Please get up,” you plead, refusing to make eye contact with him. “You need to get up.”
He finally lets his head fall down again, finding the strength in himself to roll to lay on his side as if to get a better look at you. “You can’t leave me,” he whines.
“Oh, I’m leaving, that’s for sure,” you reply, a whimsical smile gracing your lips. You can’t let him see you’re freaking out on the inside. “But not with you looking like this, I can’t have any of your followers pinning this bloody mess on me.” Sure, that sounds credible. It makes sense in your head, at least. Anything is better than it sounds like you’re staying behind because you sincerely want to help him.
“Please,” he snivels. He really has no intention of giving up, right? You can’t keep this quasi-argument, the longer you stay here the worse your chances of getting away get.
“Fine, I’ll clean up your wounds and then I’ll leave,” you concede. “Can you stand?” you ask, but you stop yourself as you’re about to reach for him to pull him up. Rushing to your feet, you take long strides to reach your closet. After rummaging for a few seconds, you come back to him, kneeling down. “Give me your hands,” if you’re going to touch him out of your own volition, you need to create a safety net for yourself in case he gets any ideas.
Shigaraki seems confused about your request but offers you his hands anyway, which you trap into the quirk-canceling cuffs you’ve fetched. He got those for you and made you wear them all the time when you first arrived at your enclosure, but had given up on them a while back and now kept them away, probably in an attempt for you to feel more comfortable with him. Satisfied, you push him to lay him flat on his back, moving in front of him to pull him up by his hands so he can sit up.Â
Now that you’re getting a better look at his face, you can see he’s pretty messed up. His lips are cut all over, hematomas bursting at the seams and ravaging his habitually immaculate visage. Your stomach churns when you catch him smirking at you–this fucker is pushing his luck, you think to yourself.
Getting yourself to your feet yet again, you hold onto his hands and pull on them to finally stand him up. “I can’t lift you all by myself! Put your back into it, come on!” You do your best to ignore how he snickers at your struggle and pull again with all your weight. Thankfully, he heeds your orders and you successfully manage to get him to stand. But, before you can celebrate this small victory, Shigaraki wobbles and leans into you, letting his weight crash into you. “Hey!” You complain. “You’re fucking heavy!”
“My bad,” His apology is ever insincere and his smirk ever boastful. However, he does reign his body in, which allows you to maneuver yourself in order to have your back facing him. Finally, you throw both of his arms over your shoulders so he can lean on you properly. Not wanting to say anything else to him, you begin staggering towards the bathroom with Shigaraki in tow.Â
As soon as you reach your destination, you let go of your cargo so he can sit on the toilet while you run the bath. While you could be an ass and drop him inside the tub with cold water, you’d rather do everything properly so you can leave with a clear conscience. Once the water is adequately warm, you walk back to the injured man you’ve convinced yourself you have to help and help him up to his feet.
“Clothes,” you state, grabbing the hem of his tattered shirt. Getting the message, he slowly but surely raises his arms as you take off the torn garment. Next, you pull down on the waistband of his pants, taking his underwear too in the process. You’ve seen him naked more times than it should be humanly allowed, so you’re not fazed by his nudity. You just know that he’s smiling like a madman while you’re not looking, but if you think too much about it you’ll probably end up drowning him for good measure. “Shoes, too.” With that, he kicks off both his trousers and his footwear in one motion.
Holding onto both of his hands again, you guide him to the edge of the tub and ease him into sitting inside. While he leans back and enjoys the moment, you reach for his shower rag, dunking it into the water and twisting off the excess. “Straighten up,” you demand.Â
When he pulls his back from the wall, you notice he’s covered its pristine white finish with his cursed blood. Man, that certainly brings back memories of having to sit in this very tub tending to your own wounds after a certain someone had broken in every inch of your body on your first night together.Â
Why am I here? Why am I helping him? I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I would gouge my eyes out if it meant I would never have to perceive him again. Why? What the fuck is wrong with me? What—
Noticing you’re spacing off, Shigaraki turns and looks at you over his shoulder with a quirked-up eyebrow and a condescending smile. “Forgetting something?”
There’s something about the look in his murky eyes that makes whatever had been keeping you sane snap at last. It makes you come to a very liberating realization: There’s one thing you yearn for more than your freedom, and that is revenge.
“Can you move further? I can’t see everything well from this angle,” you ask. When he does as told without hesitation, a force unknown yet welcome compels you to get inside the tub with your partner in misery. Sitting behind him, you extend your legs inside the water only to wrap them around his waist. He attempts to press his back against your chest, thinking he might get to steal a kiss or whatever other pathetic action his delusions call for, but you push him away and get to cleaning his wounds. “What happened to you?” you finally inquire.
“I’d rather not say,” he responds, avoidant as ever. “But, if anything, it makes me happy to have such a cute little cum dumpster by my side to take care of me.”
You should’ve expected that answer, it’s your fault for thinking you could maintain a decent conversation with this lunatic. You can’t see what kind of expression he’s boasting on his crusty little face right now, but you’re convinced it’s one that would make you want to bash his head in with a mallet. “You sure have a way with words, Tomura,” you mock, dragging the rag down his mangled back with a little more force, enough to make him wince but sneer on the same beat.
“Let me put your hair up, you’ll catch a cold if you get it wet,” hooking a nail through the hair tie you always kept on your right wrist, you hang the shower rag on the edge of the tub and focus on Shigaraki’s scruffy locks. Tense fingers run through his greasy and unkempt hair, managing to get his tresses into a high bun.
“Having second thoughts already?” the man at your mercy taunts. “You’re being awfully nice to me.”
“Not really, as soon as I’m done I’m bailing out of here,” you confirm. “I guess I want your last memories of me to be happy ones.”
“That’s rich,” he jibes. “What makes you think that I won’t be using all of my resources to get you back in here once and if you manage to make it out?”
“Well, this could go one of two ways,” snaking your arms around his torso, you delicately pull him into you so the back of his head rests on your left shoulder. “Either I make a clean break out of here and do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever have to see you or your brainless minions,” taken aback by your sudden tenderness, Shigaraki crooks his neck so he can look up to you. “Or I die trying.” With that, you seal his chapped and bruised lips with yours.
He instinctively closes his eyes at the feathery contact, but you keep yours open as you covertly free one of your arms to reach for the shower rag you’d cast aside. Rejoining your position embracing the criminal cradled in your bosom, you hold the cloth by both ends of it and draw it near Shigaraki’s neck. Releasing him from where your lips connect, he gives you a dazed look and yet another smirk. He’s probably wondering in that rotten head of his what you’re up to, but without giving it much thought, he attempts to close the gap between the two of you yet again.
Internally, you’re thanking your lucky stars. Your plan worked. He didn’t notice the rag.
Your win.
With a strength you thought you had lost ages ago, you firmly hold the rag over Shigaraki’s neck, switching both ends in your hands behind the nape to vigorously pull and cut his air supply. Small ragged gasps escape through his throat, frantic skinny fingers scratching at his own neck in a desperate attempt to free himself. It’s quite impressive that he still has it in himself to move around like this, considering he was prostrated, bloodied, and defeated by the entrance mere moments ago.
Despite his obvious difficulty to breath, he thrashes like a madman, kicking his legs and splashing water all over. You knew overpowering him would be no easy feat, but you’ve watched enough true crime documentaries to know that even the strongest people can do next to nothing when attacked from behind. If anything, you wish you could see what expression he’s sporting right now, wishing you could witness the light leaving his bulging eyes as his world turns black, the color on his face draining and leaving him unrecognizable. You wonder if, for the first time in forever, you’re the one striking the fear of god in him.
Shigaraki struggles violently against your tight grip, letting out a strangled screech that doesn’t manage to morph into a proper scream. His jaw springs up and down as if wanting to articulate something but being unable to. Still, it’s not like it matters much now, because, with one final and swift pull of your makeshift weapon, the intensity of his toil gradually decreases, his body sagging into your chest and his hands ceasing their quest for relief. You hold your strangling position for what feels like a lifetime. Something inside you doesn’t want to let you just yet, because you don’t know what you’ll do if by some miracle he has managed to stay alive.
After deciding it’s time to let go, you release the cloth and let it fall into the bloodied water. Refusing to assess the state of your abductor’s body, you simply push his body away from you, ignoring how it slumps over itself as you stand from the tub and exit the bathroom. In the midst of walking yet again toward your full-length mirror, you become aware of how fast your heart is beating and how wobbly your hands and legs feel. Getting a glimpse of yourself on the reflective surface, you try to bring yourself to care about the state of your makeup and the clothes you’re wearing, but your mind is so hazy you’re unable to do anything other than let out a deep, teetering sigh.
Changing course to the room’s exit, you plant your feet by the doorframe and stare into the unknown, your gaze defocusing and heart dropping.Â
You can admit to yourself that you’re scared, really fucking scared. If you actually managed to kill Shigaraki, you’ve been able to buy yourself a bit more time to make your escape; on the other hand, it also means you’ve assassinated the leader of a very dangerous and influential criminal organization, and that’s the kind of deed one doesn’t come out of unscathed. Even if he isn’t there to give out orders anymore, his followers might hunt you down in search of the same revenge you exacted on their boss. An eye for an eye.
Even if you manage to run away without being caught right now, what future is there for you out there? What hopes do you have of reintegrating into society? You don’t even feel like a human being anymore. You've been defaced, humiliated, used, and abused beyond reason. Would the Public Safety Commission even be able to protect you? They’ve failed to do their job on multiple occasions, there’s no guarantee you’ll be kept from harm if you seek refuge with them.
Thinking about all these scenarios is making your head hurt. Maybe you’re just looking for excuses to stay in this dump, being completely disillusioned with what kind of life awaited you beyond your enclosure, a part of you wanting to go back to the corpse of the man that had made your existence hell for the past months because at least the horrors he had made you a witness of were gutturally familiar and didn’t carry with them the fear of the unknown.
Be that as it may, agonizing over what will become of you but in freedom sounds way better than sticking around and waiting for your body and mind to decay alongside the reason for your violent but justified bout. It’s time to decide.
It’s time to claim your victory.
footnote: i didn't want to tag this as dead dove do not eat bc i don't think it's that bad(?) but if it makes anyone uncomfortable i'll change the warnings accordingly. thank you for reading!!
katsuki bakugo x f!reader.
part one: you're going to carry that weight
content warning:Â none.
word count: 2.5 k
chapter premise:Â bakugo receives an invitation to kaminari's wedding and he's upset about it. not because of the occasion, but because he knows that attending means meeting one person he thought he had already left behind for good: you.
a/n:Â hello! this is a complete overhaul (heh) of an old work of mine that i was never too satisfied with. the original finished product felt bare bones to me, but now that i'm older and wiser, i feel better prepared to tackle the themes of this story. this is a two-parter, part two will be posted sometime tomorrow? or Sunday? it's mostly done but i can't stop changing things around, ugh.
extra special thanks to cookie and pika (whose urls i was too shy to ask for) for beta reading this!
Weddings! Who doesn’t love weddings?
Bakugo. Bakugo despises weddings.
All the pomp, circumstance, and fanfare of the occasion has never been his style. The fact that his peers would actively choose to waste time on organizing and participating in mindless festivities instead of fully dedicating themselves to their hero work is something he finds particularly mind-boggling. A part of him had been dreading the moment his friends got infected with the wedding craze and started getting married one after the other, mostly because he would be invited, and, therefore, would feel obligated to attend.
He really thought any celebrations to come would happen at least a couple of years after they all graduated high school, or not at all if he got lucky.
Oh sweet, innocent Katsuki.
YOU’RE INVITED
TO DENKI KAMINARI AND AKARI KATSURAGI’S WEDDING!
Of course. OF COURSE, Dunce Face is the first one to get the craze going just six months after graduating. Fantastic!
He crumples up the wedding invitation he received in his hands, soaking the translucent vellum paper with his caramel sweat. He means that as an obvious threat, he can’t help wanting to blow it up to smithereens.
Katsuki tosses the invite’s envelope across his bed, groaning in the process. He doesn’t pay much mind to the damn thing until a small piece of paper flies out of it and lands on his sheets. Picking it up and holding it up to read it, the note reads:
Kacchan! Just letting you know you’ve been appointed one of my best men! No ifs, whats or buts! Bring a date!
Taking the small note in both hands now, he rips it to shreds. He shouldn’t be as annoyed as he is. Honestly, it’s not like he would’ve missed the event if he hadn’t been appointed a groomsman. Let it be known that he’s more irked at the fact that he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.Â
He’s a busy man! His patrols and work commitments tend to be planned a month in advance! Who knows if his schedule will allow him to attend the wedding? Ugh, now he has to talk to his agency and ask around to find someone willing to cover the shifts he’ll miss. He also has to go shopping for a present for the newlyweds, and buy a new tuxedo because he’s sure the one in his closet won’t fit anymore and find a date—
Wait, find a date? For Kaminari’s wedding? Where most of the guests will be U.A. alumni? Wouldn’t that mean—
Yeah, he knows exactly what it means. You’ll be there. You were really close to Akari in high school, you wouldn’t miss her wedding for anything in the world. Man, how long has it been since he last saw you? A year and a half? Maybe more. You were a second-year student when the two of you met, and you ended up graduating a year before him and his class.
A familiar sinking feeling manifests in his chest, that one that always lacerates him when his mind decides to wander back to his memories of you. These days, the one thing he can do to keep his sanity is close the door on them and run in the opposite direction to keep them from clawing at his conscience. Needless to say, these are futile attempts, because he can’t keep them from plaguing his every waking moment. They are always vivid, perpetually tempting…
Whatever. Fuck that. He can’t believe he still gets sappy thinking about you after all this time.
Besides, he is getting ahead of himself. Even if it’s slim, there’s a chance you won’t even be there anyway. Kirishima and the others always mention how crazy busy you are with work lately. Nowadays, passing whispers and traveling rumors are his only source of information about you ever since that day.
The ringing of the last school bell earns a sigh of contentment from almost everyone in the classroom. The vast majority of Class 2-A’s students stand up to pick up their things and dart out of the vicinity as fast as humanly possible. Quite understandable, being Friday and all, they probably have better plans than hanging out at school past 3:00 PM. Now that March had arrived, the weather had grown agreeable enough for outdoor activities to resume.
Katsuki finds himself mindlessly looking at his classmates as they exit the room one by one. Soon growing tired of it, he pulls out his phone from his school bag and opens his messaging app, repeating what he’s been doing nonstop since the night before.
[senpai] you probably already know this, but i'm graduating tomorrow.
He remembers reading your message at 8 pm last night. He has been staring vacantly at the message on and off ever since you sent it. Reprising this recent routine, he scrolls slightly up your chat and reads your last few words to him.
[senpai] i shouldn’t have to say it, but i feel like i have to because you’ve been avoiding me for god knows how long.
That’s right, the silent treatment he had decided to give you is coming up on its third week if he remembers correctly. If he ever went a long period of time without contact, it was mostly due to his school responsibilities, never voluntarily. However, this time it was completely done of his own volition. A sigh escapes his lips, every single ounce of the resolve he had managed to summon threatening to ditch him as well. He hates this. He hates all of this. Why is he doing it, again? He feels like shit for imposing this no-contact rule on himself, and he abhors how viscerally aware he is of how you must be feeling about it yourself.
[senpai] i’ll be waiting for you behind the auditorium after the ceremony ends.
[senpai] i expect your answer by then.
An answer, you claim. However, he knows what you want is more of an admission. An admission of what he already knows, of what he had hoped you already knew as well. Setting his phone down on his desk, he folds his arms over the wooden surface and unceremoniously drops his forehead down on his forearms, clearly not thinking about what whoever is still present in the room would think. This is hell, his own personal hell.
“Hey,” A distant voice calls to him while he’s lost in his inner lamentations. It is only when the owner of said voice pats him gently over the shoulder that he snaps out of it. “we’re heading to Senpai’s ceremony now, sure you’re not coming?”
As if turning on a switch to put his woes in the backburner, Bakugo immediately jumps up and sits straight. Looking to his side, he finds Kirishima sporting a sympathetic smile. Next to him, there’s Kaminari and his dopey-ass smile on full display. “Senpai will be sad if you aren’t there, Kacchan!” Denki adds.
If being reminded of how you’ll feel if he doesn’t show up wasn’t enough, being called Kacchan on top of that surely did it for him. Bakugo slaps Kirishima’s hand away, turning to face away from both of his classmates and standing up with his phone and schoolbag in hand. “I already told you people I’m not going. Piss off.”
“All of us have been saying this for the past few weeks, but you’re going to regret it if you don’t go.” Mina asserts from where she stands by her own desk, leaning over it as she contemplates the whole ordeal from a safe distance as Sero stands cross-armed to her side. “In the words of the great Cowboy Bebop, you’re going to carry that weight.” He condemns.
This is one of those times Bakugo staunchly regrets having introduced (or, regrets being forced to introduce you after being caught sneaking around) you to his friend group. Everyone already knew what was going on, having gotten both sides of the story yet trying not to pick sides because you had already become an integral part of their squad. They valued your friendship as much as they did Bakugo’s, and, as such, only had both of your best interests in mind.
Yet, Katsuki has already become steadfast in his final decision. Sadly, there’s nothing anyone can say at this point that can make him change his mind. Gritting his teeth and ridding himself of any abject doubts, he declares: “It’s none of your business.”
Regret bitter as gall besets in his mouth.
And it’s only when he’s faced with the consequences of his actions that he wishes things could’ve played out differently. Then again, he always comes back to acknowledge that he only has himself to blame for his woes.
After arriving at his dorm room, Katsuki decided to shut himself in to play video games until his brain melted. Probably not the best method to keep his mind away from his current concern, but he couldn’t risk being outside and running into you after the ceremony came to an end. He knew that if he came face to face with you, his determination would falter and he would crumble at your feet.
He checks his phone to see what time it is: 7:50 pm. Looks like it’s time to turn in for the night. He’ll need to wake up as early as possible in order to make up for the personal training he skipped today. Taking his headphones off and turning off his handheld console, he stands up from where he sat on the floor and stretches.
After finishing his nighttime routine, he’s finally ready to lie in bed and be done with this fucking day. He truly hopes that after today, everything will be a little bit easier, not only for you but for himself as well.
Unfortunately for him, his phone rings just as he’s about to doze off. Directing his death glare at the ceiling for a brief moment, he reaches over to his nightstand, where his mobile device rests. Checking the time before acknowledging the caller, he notices it’s 8 pm on the dot. He yawns, his eyes watering. Who could it be?
Mindlessly pressing the answer prompt, he greets. “What?”
“It’s me.”
Your voice startles him awake. So much so that he’s sitting up straight in mere milliseconds.
“You were about to go to sleep, right?”
Katsuki listens to how candidly raspy, uncharacteristically low, and worryingly tremulous your voice sounds. “Yeah.” He’s terribly concerned, and as such, he can’t help but default to his more caring nature. “You’ve been crying.” He points out, matter-of-factly.
“What?” Your sudden and loud sniffling confirms his assumptions. “Of course, I’ve been crying, I’m—” Before finishing your sentence, you suck in a deep breath, exhaling through teeters and trembles, as if to steady your heart. “I’m really, really upset. So, you’re going to listen to me.”
He turns his body to let his legs hang down from the bed, his left hand supporting part of his weight while he holds his phone with the other. Lamentably, the only thing he can do at this point is obediently heed your words.
“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet for thinking you’d actually come, I know. Even so, I held out hope. Even when the sun went down, I waited for you. I’m such a dumbass” You’re struggling not to break down.
Katsuki is frozen in place, but his whole body feels restless. His fingers grip at his sheets, his teeth gritting in perpetual vexation. Blood rushes all the way to his face, not in embarrassment, but in irritation. He can feel his heart’s deafening beats resounding in his eardrums. He is on edge, perfectly aware of the fact that it is his fault that you’re at your breaking point right now.
“But okay. I get it. I’ll take the hint now. You really don't care about me, at all.” You force an acrimonious laugh that he knows all too well. “Once I’m gone, that’s it, you know?”
He’s fully aware. He thoroughly is, so much so that it’s scary, but the things he could say to bring to your attention how much he adores you go against his better judgment. He’d hoped you’d be satisfied with his attention, and his dedicated acts of service. He wanted to convince himself that they would always be enough.
“I know.”
These feelings are dreadful. They terrify him.
“And you’re really willing to throw everything away? Just like that?”
He can’t answer that. You must know he won’t because as soon as he hears a quivering sigh coming from the other side of the line, he acknowledges that you’ve given up.
“I see.”
He still remembers avoiding places where you would hang out with your friends, or the ones you frequented around campus to train. It proves to be hard, considering that both of you were hardwired to head for those locations in your spare time. The first few times, you try to strike up menial conversations with him. After that, you opt for only gracing him with a cordial smile, a short curtsy always ending your limited interactions, which is probably for the best.
By the end of March, the school year has ended and you’ve moved out of UA. With this, he’s filled with a false sense of tranquility.
Pros: He won’t see you around campus anymore!
Cons: He won’t see you around campus anymore…
By the start of the next semester in April, he thinks he has grown accustomed to your absence, but it turns out he hasn’t. It fucking sucks. He hates it. Fuck, he misses you. You’d become an integral part of his daily routine, and he goes through an acute withdrawal phase now that you’re actually gone. Katsuki’s desire to beat the shit out of anyone who crosses his path or looks at him the wrong way grows by the day. He’s livid, upset beyond reason. And so, he spends his last year at UA about to snap. He’d never admit it, but, the one he’s upset at the most is himself.
His friends catch him asking way too many questions about you at times since he knows you stay in contact with them. This only invites them to tease him, which in turn makes him grow more frustrated with his reality; it all circles back to the fact that he does want to see you, painfully so.
Katsuki is deprived. Every inch of his body and soul aches to see you again.
Some nights, he finds himself unable to sleep, recollections of you playing like a movie in his mind. He’s particularly fond of that one memory of your first kiss in your dorm’s common room. He reminisces about how you two were sitting on the floor, and about how exhilarating the thought of getting caught by a teacher or any of your classmates was. When you pulled back, your face was beet red. He himself was probably burning up as well. Your hands were balled up on your lap, too shy to actually reach out and hang onto him. His own rested on both of your shoulders after much inner deliberation regarding where it would be appropriate to place them.
Scenes of many other kisses you steal from each other replay on a loop. Katsuki’s fingers trace over his own lips and then linger as if trying to recreate your silky touch. And, at the end of the day, that’s all he has left.
Hauntingly lucid memories.
footnote: okay so, i wanted to add some information here just in case you aren't aware of how school years are divided in Japan!
the school year begins in April and ends in March of the following year.
most schools adopt a three-semester system, with the first semester from April to August, the second semester from September to December, and the third semester from January to March
this is mostly why i made it a point to state what month some events went down. maybe it's just me but i'm a sucker for this kind of accuracy, feel free to ignore if you don't care heh.
katsuki bakugo x f!reader
alternative title: your boring neighbor
content warning: small mentions of bodily injury, nothing graphic.
word count: 2.1 k
chapter premise: bakugo is stuck in his apartment after suffering a leg injury on the job. since he can't stand up for long periods of time, and, therefore, can't cook for himself, he orders takeout. chaos ensues.
a/n: hello! this is my first work after quite a long hiatus. any and all feedback is appreciated! since i want this to be a multichapter thingy, i'm already working on part two. that should be out in a few days.
extra special thanks to the lovely shay (@sipsteainanxiety) for proofreading this!
Ever since joining the workforce, Katsuki has come to the following realization: He loathes being unproductive.
Working from dusk until dawn, either patrolling into the late hours of the night or wasting away filling and filing paperwork, became his new normal straight after graduation. He never complained about it, though. Keeping his head, and body, for that matter, occupied with anything else other than much of the guilt that loomed over his psyche day in and day out was a win in his books. That kind of productivity that nothing but something of force majeure (or rather, a careless mistake made while operating on autopilot) could bring to a halt.
As he lays down on his couch, Katsuki slowly, but surely, shifts his weight so that the slight yet uncomfortable pressure he feels on his casted leg ceases to stab pins and needles into his still very sensitive bones, grumbling and cursing under his breath.
Broken tibia. Specifically, broken in 3 places after some stray debris crushed his right calf in the midst of saving a civilian from being crushed themselves. Estimated recovery time: three to six months.
Forget joining the workforce. Joining the workforce and THEN being put out of commission from said workforce was the thing he found himself abhorring the most. Having something so integral to his lifestyle (and so tightly knit into the fabric of the already questionable state of his mental health) taken away from him was thoroughly messing with his head. If it were for him, he’d be back in the agency after a week or two of downtime. But he knew better. Recovery Girl wasn’t there at his beck and call anymore like back in high school.
Katsuki sighs, mindlessly looking around his apartment. From where he lies, he can see most of it. As he faces forward, his gaze lingers over the front door, which leads to the living room, and, further down, to the hallway containing the master and guest bedrooms. To his right, he can see the dining table and the kitchen. He is quite fond of his apartment, his favorite of its features being the large open spaces it provides.
Well, it was his favorite whenever said large open spaces were clean. He hasn’t been able to properly stand up, much less do any housework, in about a week, so the chores have been piling up for a while now. His mother mentioned in passing, after visiting him at the hospital, that she’d be over to help around so that he didn’t exert himself cleaning and cooking for himself, but said “promise” had yet to come to fruition.
Forget being unproductive. Feeling remarkably useless and powerless is even worse.
Yet again, he groans when he listens to his stomach growling for the third time in the past hour. His food order is taking forever. He’s not the biggest fan of throwing away his income ordering takeout every other day of the week, but there’s nothing much he can do if it involves standing up for prolonged periods of time. However, as if having conjured his delivery person by complaining mentally for the umpteenth time, the buzzer in his apartment goes off.
Katsuki wastes no time in getting up from the couch with the help of his crutches, hurrying to answer. “Yes?” He makes his best attempt at not sounding desperate.
“Akiyama here, looking for Mr. Bakugo. I have his order from Narisawa.”
“That’s me. Coming. I’m in crutches, so I might take a while to come down.”Â
“No problem, sir.”
With that, Katsuki maneuvers his walking aids and opens the front door. Nonetheless, in his wish to speed up the acquisition of his much-desired meal, his left crutch manages to get stuck in the door frame while he’s about to lock up behind himself.
“Shit!”
Needless to say, he loses balance quickly and ends up falling forward. His crutches slam down by his sides, the ungracious banging of both metals aids resounding in the hallway.
Thankfully, his aptly honed and quick reflexes allow him to stop himself from smashing his face against the floor, sticking both of his arms forward to break his fall and landing him in a push-up position.
He finds himself staring at the floor and feeling his heart drop at the thought of breaking another bone in his body that would prevent him from making a swift recovery just because he was ridiculously hungry.
Katsuki assesses the situation before moving an inch of any of his extremities. Fortunately, he managed to avoid his certain doom by having the foresight to lift his injured leg before it came into contact with the floor. Either way, his moving options are limited, since they rely on his healthy leg and both of his arms.
“Okay, how are we doing this…” he contemplates out loud, his thoughts being abruptly stopped as he hears the door to his left unlock and open. Turning his head to the source of the noise, he is met with what would soon become a sight for sore eyes.Â
There you are, one foot out the door, compelled to stare back at him, eyes wide in disbelief and limbs frozen in place. Your mouth is stretched in a thin line, one which signifies to Katsuki that you’re really at a loss for words at the situation. Regardless, you scrutinize him whole, and when you appear to come to terms with what you’re witnessing, you rush over to him and kneel down to his side.
“Oh God, are you okay? Here, let me help...” Your voice lacks conviction, and your actions do too. You’re jittery, flailing, and trying to figure out where to place your hands so you can help him up.
Katsuki never really made time, nor willingly ventured, to meet his neighbors. In his 20 years of life on this earth, he never came to understand pleasantries but did eventually grow accustomed to dealing with civilians in a mildly educated manner. This situation called for his newly learned skill.
“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my delivery person is waiting with my breakfast downstairs and if I’m not in the lobby in 5 minutes, he’ll leave.” His nowhere-near-dulcet tones catch you off guard, and you immediately stop your futile attempts at aiding him to listen to him intently. “You’d be a huge help if you went down to receive my order and brought it back. I can get up by myself just fine.”
“Okay!” Having understood your directive without hesitation, you nod your head several times, standing up and scurrying down the hallway, out of sight in mere seconds.
Back in his apartment, after getting himself off the floor and moseying over to his dining table, he sits down facing the front door and waits eagerly, and impatiently, for your return. Bouncing his healthy leg up and down, Katsuki stares mindlessly at his smartphone in an attempt to take his mind off how hungry he is.
A few minutes later, his attention is pulled to the three knocks heard over at his door. He wants to run over and finally get a glimpse of his long-awaited meal, but he’s now well aware of the consequences of rushing with only the fulfillment of his primary needs in mind.
“Door’s open, come in.” Keeping his tone as calm as he could muster, he stares desperately as you turn the doorknob and let yourself inside. You’re holding a large, brown paper bag, and a big, white plastic sealed bowl, but you set it down on the floor as you take off your sneakers and change to a pair of slippers meant for guests.
Katsuki feels like he’s sweating bullets watching how slowly you make your way further down the apartment. When you reach your destination by the table, you set the takeout down. He wastes no time in tearing apart the paper bag and breaking the container where his tamagoyaki and grilled fish reside. With metal chopsticks in hand, his attention is fully on his salvation from starvation.
He can hear a distant “Here’s… your miso soup”, but he’s too busy to notice that you end up just standing there after lowering the plastic bowl onto the table, staring at him as he wolfs down his breakfast.
However, It doesn’t take long for him to start choking on the amount of food he’s cramming inside his mouth, his coughing and shortness of breath being the only things capable of disrupting his concentration. His eyes water, but only then does he remember there’s supposed to be somebody else in the vicinity.
Ingesting the amorphous mass of food in his buccal cavity, he veers his attention to you after stabilizing his air intake. “What?” is his response to finding you still staring at him.
Your eyes widen yet again when his attention is back on you, and you avert your gaze before you speak. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… make you uncomfortable. I should leave now.” Even so, you keep in place, as if waiting for his permission to leave.
Katsuki opens his mouth to say something but ultimately stops himself before letting out something callous. “I don’t like how you’re just standing there, you can just sit down.”
Well, that could’ve been worded a bit better, but you don’t appear to mind, since you do take a seat next to him, your movements awkward yet urgent. He slows down the pace at which he puts any food in his mouth, leaving room for him to speak more comfortably. “Thanks for picking up my food, I was starving.”
“No problem,” you respond, only to let the conversation die shortly after. Whatever. Katsuki thinks to himself that he won’t push you to keep talking to him if you don’t want to. However, you clear your throat, reading yourself to speak again. “What happened to you?”
“Work injury. Broken tibia. Need to wear this damn cast for the next three months,” he replies.
“Oh.” You nod once as if processing and registering this information. “I’m guessing this is recent, then.”
“Yeah, I was just discharged from the hospital last week,” he starts. “My mother was supposed to come over to help out, but I haven’t heard from her.” Looking around discreetly, he sighs. “This place’s a dump.”
“I don’t mind, my apartment looks like this most of the time,” you admit, a stiff smile finding its way over your lips.
Katsuki hums in response, mostly because he’s unsure as to how one’s supposed to respond when having nothing as a frame of reference.
Accordingly, and since it’s only sensible considering you are a stranger inside his home, he decides it wouldn’t hurt to look you over to assess the situation. Call him paranoid, but some things tend to stick with you in his line of work.
Pretending to still be focused on his grilled fish, Katsuki ever so slightly veers his head just enough to look at you.
First off, it’s hard not to notice the way you’re sitting down. Stiff as a board, legs pressed against one another and hands intertwined with each other resting over your lap, anxiously alternating between twiddling your thumbs and clicking your nails together.
You’re wearing loose sweatpants and an oversized sweater. Fashion choice or fear of being perceived? Moving up, he’s thankful you’ve been avoiding looking at him so he can actually check out your face. Mostly clear skin, some breakouts here and there. Eyebags deep, scleras red. Evident lack of sleep. No makeup, you probably just washed your face, brushed up your eyebrows, and stepped out the door. Hair carelessly thrown up in a clip, a few stray strands poking through. You’re most likely around his age, maybe one or two years older at best. Considering you’ve been clearing your throat constantly in such a short span of time, he assumes you haven’t even done as much as drink water since waking up.
Satisfied with his deductions and taking everything into account, he has no reason to presume you’re someone suspicious or dangerous. At least now he can keep eating in peace.
“So, uh…” you mutter, subsequently clearing your throat yet again. “I’m not a professional by any means, but if you need someone to help around while you figure stuff out, I can… You know… You look like you could use some help.”
As if automatically, Katsuki turns to look at you yet again, quite surprised by your sudden offer.
When your eyes meet, slight panic paints your features. “…This must be really weird coming from a stranger, what was I thinking?” You laugh off your proposal immediately. “Sorry, forget I said anything.” You scramble to get yourself up from the chair, power walking to the door without looking back. “See you around.” And with that, you’re gone.
Katsuki stays fixated on the door after you close it behind you. Blinking a couple of times before turning back and staring at what’s left of his food, he thinks out loud.
