❝ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 . ❞ [ Katsuki Bakugo x reader ]

08

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃,

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳-𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆...

"No," You told him. "Please leave me alone." Dabi noticed the weak desperation in your voice. It was much different from the hostile and threatening one before. You were resisting much less forcefully this time. Maybe, if he pushed just a little harder you would crack.

"Come with me," Dabi urged while stepping closer to you. "Just for tonight! Give the real villain life a chance." You blinked twice, then shook your head.

"No," You repeated yourself. "I can't." Dabi saw hope in your choice of words and brought himself even closer. He reached out his hands, slowly and carefully. He gently placed them on your shoulders. It was a move far too intimate for your comfort.

"Think about it," He virtually begged in a soft tone. "What do they give you that we can't?" Katsuki. That's what they give me. You delicately removed his hands from your shoulders, allowing them to drop to his sides.

"Let me rephrase," You spoke quietly yet sternly. "I won't go with you. If you try to contact me again, I won't hesitate to beat the shit out of you. Again." Dabi narrowed his eyes, receiving the message loud and clear.

"You're making a mistake," Dabi warned you. "And if you regret it, we might not be willing to take you in."

"You're right," You acknowledged. "I might regret it, but I'm done running from my mistakes." Dabi narrowed his eyes, receiving the message loud and clear. You watched as he slipped into the shadowy alleyway and disappeared.

You let out a breath, feeling a weight leave your shoulders. Hopefully, The League of Villains would finally leave you alone. Though you had your issues with the heroes, and they certainly had their issues with you. But it seemed you were one step closer to burying your past. 

With an uncharacteristically optimistic feeling in your chest, you shut your apartment door behind you. Soon, you found yourself crawling into bed. For once, you felt some semblance of peace. Joining the villains may have been the easier choice, but you clawed your way out of hell, and you were not going back. But that peace, much like many of the good things in your life, was short-lived.

There came a crash from somewhere in the apartment. You shot out of bed, firmly planting your feet on the ground. You opened your bedside table drawer, gripping the knife you stored there. Carefully, you stalked out of the bedroom and into the short hall. 

You lingered for a moment, watching the shadows on the floor. They moved, but not in the way they would when the light source changed. Someone was in your apartment. You stepped into the main area, where the kitchen combines with the living room.

A sharp searing pain rippled through your arm. Your mind only registered the loud clicking noise until after the bullet had pierced your skin. The assailant had a gun equipped with a silencer. But they were not the only one who had broken in.

You stumbled back, your reaction time was weak so you failed to active your quirk in time to deflect the bullet. You nearly fell to your knees. Still gripping your knife, you tried to apply pressure to the wound. You stared into the darkness, trying to identify what all lay there.

There were at least seven of them, that was your best guess. One stepped in front of the others, reaching out to pull your hair, forcing you to look up at them. Your eyes still had not adjusted to the low lighting.

"Suoh Hiroto sends his regards," They said. They raised their hand, then brought it back down forcefully to backhand the side of your face. You fell to the floor, feeling your own blood coat your knife and fingers as you let go of your arm in order to catch yourself. Your instincts kicked in.

You shifted all your weight to your upper body and swung your legs to collide into theirs. The force made them fall, but that only caused their co-workers to rush in. You were left stranded without your usual arsenal, and worse yet, without your quirk. To use it would mean to lose everything you had worked so hard to obtain. To defend yourself would mean to lose everything.

You had no choice. The terms of your probation were painfully clear. If you used your quirk--if you fought back--the heroes could easily spin this to make you look like the aggressor. Back to prison you would go for the rest of your life. What choice did you have? To die in freedom or to die in a cell?

You felt the blows of their fists and feet, the cut of their knives, the sting of their bullets, and the venom of their words. "Traitor," their shout rang in your head. "You fucking rat!" "This is what people like you deserve!" "We have a code and you fucking broke it!" "You deserve to die for what you've done!" "You think you're tough, huh? You're pathetic!"

They could have easily killed you with a single bullet to the head. But no, Hiroto instructed them to make you suffer. Suffer in a way you had not suffered before. Some of them were surprised that the famed gun for hire put up no fight, others did not even notice.

You could not even feel their strikes anymore, it all went numb. You could not bring yourself to move and you were barely breathing, hanging onto life by a near thread. They did not break that thread, however, for they thought you were already too far gone. One by one, they vanished.

You laid, an inch from death, on the cold ground of your apartment. It was only a matter of time before you bled out. No one was coming to save you. After all, no one even knew you were so close to death. Even if they did, who would care?

𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳...