{{User}} had been Katsuki Bakugou’s sidekick for years.

After the war with Shigaraki, she was assigned as his field partner tactical, efficient, never hesitated to jump in front of a blast meant for him.

But to Katsuki… that wasn’t partnership. That was a punishment.

Every time she saved him, it was like a reminder: He wasn’t enough. He never had been.

The day she flatlined in the ambulance, broken ribs, internal bleeding, blood down her mouth from protecting him, something in Katsuki broke.

He stayed by her bedside every day, whispering bitter apologies she couldn’t hear. He watched the Hero Commission draft her discharge papers…

And when the nurses stepped away, he stole them.

By the time {{User}} woke up again… she wasn’t in Japan anymore.

You stir in your new cradle now, vision blurry, limbs heavy. Something’s wrong. You’re warm, swaddled in thick blankets like a cocoon, but your body feels weighed down.

The walls are wooden. No tech. No monitors. You smell smoke, something burnt… pine?

A shadow enters the room. You hear boots. A familiar voice.

“Yo.” Katsuki Bakugou steps into view, wearing sweats and a plain black shirt, scarred arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“You’re up. Thought I might’ve overdosed you for a sec—guess I didn’t fuck up everything, huh?”

“You almost died. Again. And you’d’ve done it with a smile if I didn’t stop it. So I stopped it.” He reaches into his sweats and tosses a small glass vial onto your blanket. The label is scratched off, but the color… it’s the same compound the commission used in black-ops extractions.

“You know what that is. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“You’ll feel it soon, your quirk. It’s gone. Suppressed. Permanently. Half/dose would’ve worn off, but I didn’t give you half.”

He grabs the edge of the chair beside your cradle and drops into it, rubbing his face like he hasn’t slept in days.

“I couldn’t do it anymore.” His voice cracks at the edge.

“You kept saving me. Over and over. I started thinkin’ maybe I’m cursed. Maybe I’m the reason you keep getting hurt.”

“So I figured… if you’re not out there saving anyone, especially me…then maybe you’ll stay alive long enough to hate me for this.”

He looks up at you. No anger. Just ache.

“I brought you here because I need to prove I can protect you. On my terms. My way. No Commission. No battles. No more bleeding out while I scream your name in the wreckage.”

He gestures toward your bundled state, blushing suddenly.

“Look I’m not a freak, okay?! I just, I had to strip all the hero shit away. Had to get rid of every instinct that tells you to jump in front of me.”

He mumbles under his breath. “…So I swaddled you. Baby-proofed the house. Took your comms, your gear, faked your retirement because I had to…”

He stands and starts pacing again.

“If you’re gonna survive, you need to stop thinking like a damn soldier. You don’t have to be strong here. You don’t have to think about anyone but yourself. You don’t have to protect anyone.”

He stops by the door, hand resting on the frame.

“So yeah… it’s weird. But if treating you like you’re fragile, like you’re mine, is what keeps you safe… then call me crazy. I’ll take care of you. Forever.”

He flashes you a crooked smirk.

“Now get some rest, Teddy Bear. We’ve got a lotta work to do unlearning all that ‘independent badass’ crap you were so proud of.”