❝ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 . ❞ [ Katsuki Bakugo x reader ]

09

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙴,

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳-𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆...

It was perhaps eight in the morning. Shota had no desire to be awake at such an hour. Alas, he had responsibilities and commitments, in particular, as a probation officer. It was Sunday, the turn of the week, which meant it was time for the weekly home search. 

Shota would be looking for alcohol, drugs, weapons, or anything else that would violate the terms of your probation. They were supposed to be spontaneous visits, ones that would catch you off-guard.

Birds chirped in the morning sky, landing to sit on power wires or rooftops. The sky was a brilliant baby blue and there was not a cloud in sight. Shota was surprised at the number of people out on the town, old couples, individuals, and families with children. It was rare that Shota found himself walking through the inner city streets.

When he was often in the area, it would be for work purposes. He would scale buildings, observe from afar rooftops, only ever landing on the ground for quick hand-to-hand fights. The city felt new from this angle. He now looked up at the towering buildings from the ground instead of looking down from the sky.

He took the elevator to the floor he knew you lived on. With a weak ding, the elevator doors slid open clunkily. With his hands in his pockets, Shota slowly walked to the door labeled with your address. He had visited you multiple times before to check in.

He knocked on the door three times. But there was no response. She must still be asleep. Shota knocked on the door, much harder this time. The door did not open, nor did you shout that you were on your way. Shota banged his fist against your door, beginning to wonder if you were even home.

He reached for the doorknob but quickly found that it was locked. With a slight huff of frustration, he reached for his phone. He tapped through to your contact, deciding to call you. He waited and the phone rang once, twice, three times, four times--then the default voice message played.

What in the hell is she doing? He wondered, Maybe she's in the shower. Shota reached up to the top of the doorframe. He ran his fingers across the dusty surface, searching for a hidden spare key. There was no doormat, either, so it appeared you did not have a spare key. Breaking down the door would be a hassle, one Shota was not excited to undertake.

Shota landed three harsh kicks to the old door where the lock would have been installed. The door shook with each hit, showing that it was near its breaking point. With another strong kick, the door flew open. Shota let out a breath, irritated at the amount of effort required. He stepped inside your apartment.

Shota could see your hand on the floor, your palm facing the ceiling, but the rest of your body was hidden behind the sofa. He stepped forward, looking to see where the rest of you lay. He felt his stomach drop at what he found.

Your body was sprawled out across the floor, laying in a pool of your own blood. The blood had been dried to the floor, telling Shota just how long you had been bleeding. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands instantly going to your neck, desperately trying to find a pulse. Two of his worn and tired fingers pressed against a tendon on your neck.

The pads of his fingers just barely felt a throb through your skin. Your heart was still beating, but just barely. His eyes raked down your body hastily, looking to identify any injuries that should not be moved. His hands gently ran across your body and he found what felt like several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractured knee, a few gunshot wounds, many knife cuts, and countless bruises.

Your chest hardly rose with few and far between shallow breaths. Shota could only see some of the injuries you had sustained, it was impossible for him to tell what damage had been done to you on the inside.

With the utmost caution, Shota slipped one of his arms under your thighs and the other under your shoulders. He slowly lifted your utterly unconscious body off the floor. Shota carefully held you close to him. If you were awake, you would have been able to hear his pounding heartbeat. He rushed to the nearest hospital.

...

The waiting room was cold, it was stuffy, and it was too clean to relax in. Unfortunately, the atmosphere was not the chief reason behind his unease. His stress and anxiety--the stomach-churning fear he felt--was because of you.

The doctors and nurses had rolled you away on a gurney about... Shota rolled up his sleeve to look down at his watch. It had been four hours since he last saw you, bleeding and struggling to breathe in his arms. His dark clothes had been stained by the blood that coated your body, well, the blood that was not dried yet.

With every minute that passed, he grew more and more afraid. He was afraid it was too late to save you. The thought terrified him to his core. If only he had gone to see you earlier, maybe he could have stopped whatever the hell happened. If only he had called the night before like he wanted to. If only he had done something to ensure your safety. Of course, there would be people out to get you! If only--

"Excuse me, sir," A calm voice pulled Shota from his sea of worries. "I believe you were the one who brought in (Y/n) (L/n), correct?"

"Is she okay?" Shota asked, looking up at the man in front of him.

"That's a bit of a tricky question," The doctor sighed. He decided to sit down next to Shota. The action worried the hero.

"Fortunately, we were able to start a blood transfusion relatively quickly," The doctor explained, resting his clipboard on his lap. "We were able to stabilize her, but we're going to keep a close watch just in case. I've uh... I've never seen anything like that before and I've been working in urgent care for fifteen years. I know it's none of my business, but what happened?"

"I don't know," Shota admitted, looking down at his feet. "I walked in and found her like that." The doctor cleared his throat, flipped through his clipboard.

"She'll probably live," He went on, regaining his serious and professional composure. "But not without sustaining permanent damage. Specifically, damage to her reproductive organs and her lungs." The doctor rose to his feet with a small huff. "It's highly rare that someone would survive wounds like those. I checked her file and I suspect it has something to do with her quirk, whether she consciously used it or not." 

Shota let out a sigh of relief, allowing his head to fall into his hands. He was so relieved, so thankful that you were going to be okay. He knew exactly why he cared so deeply.

"Don't worry, with the proper care, your wife will be fine." Shota's head sprung up, looking at the doctor who was walking away. Odd for someone to assume you were his wife, even odder for Shota not to correct him. It was a strategic move, in his opinion. If they assumed you were family, he would be able to visit more easily.

That meant Shota could keep an eye on you, just in case whoever tried to kill you would come back to finish the job. And once you woke up, Shota would find whoever the hell put you in that hospital bed.

𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳...