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
(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, five, six, seven
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.
