My Hero Academia Oneshots

Red String of Unfortunate Fate (Katsuki Bakugo X Reader) (Angst)

I decided to try my hand at angst so forewarning there are violent scenes.

It was your first time in Japan and you were traveling to perform at a festival. You were a musician that could pull up certain thoughts depending on the emotion and pace of the song, the happier the song, the happier the emotion, vice versa, and even though it only worked on people listening in public, you grew pretty famous. Furthermore, you could see the red strings of fate as part of the soul mark inherited from your parents. You made it to the festival stage and began to set up, and hummed a happy song quietly. Meanwhile, you didn't notice the red string's dwindling length or the person moving near the stage as if hypnotized. Bakugo hearing your music and not knowing how to respond just whispered, "People like you piss me off. That's not even a good fucking song." You continued humming ignoring his careless comments before setting down the last piece of equipment, "There! I'm done," you smiled before standing up and walking forward while the guy walked the other way bumping into you as you went. "Hey. That was uncalled for," you turned around trying to chase after the guy, but he glanced back with a relaxed smirk on his face, "Tch. You get what you fucking get for ignoring me." You started to sing again, this time y/f/s/s (your favorite sad song) knowing that it would cause the person to stop and look at you, but his reaction was different from others. It seemed to make him mad, he smoothly turned around and walked up to you grabbing your shirt and pulling you to his face. You could feel his breath but didn't stop until he said, "Where the fuck did you hear that song," the tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't touch them. "It's one of my favorite songs from when I was a kid," you admitted without even flinching, "I knew singing it would make you come back." "Well learn to shut the fuck up. Your voice isn't even that good." "Who the heck are you to tell me anything. I don't even know you," you shot back. "It doesn't fucking matter who I am." He made another tch sound and let go of your shirt and walked away. The incident bothered you, but not enough to think about it anymore because you could tell from his reactions to your songs that he wasn't able, to be honest with his real emotions. Sure enough each day of the festival, he would visit you providing the same feedback, but always coming back to listen to more. You found out that his name was Bakugo and that he was a pro hero in training providing more insight into his attitude towards you. You were both oblivious to your surroundings as you talked more and more, opposites attract and all. The last day of the festival, you stepped on stage to perform, not noticing the strange figures that stood near the back or Bakugo standing on the outskirts of the crowd. As you stepped off the stage and moved to change into your casual clothes, a hand clamped over your mouth, "So this is the singer. I wonder how they'll feel after we're done with you," the voice behind you spoke while the other held a knife to your neck, "If we hear even one song I'll cut you got it." You found yourself struggling against them even with the threat of the knife when Bakugo found himself running at the men distracting them for the moment and allowing you to kick the one holding you in the crouch freeing you momentarily. You kicked him in the face watching him pass out from the impact while the one with the knife started to jab at Bakugo. You noticed a strange tentacle behind the man's back holding a knife begin to move forward towards Bakugou and you threw yourself in front of it. The man cut off guard immediately dropped the other knife while Bakugo delivered a quick punch knocking him off. You dropped to your knees feeling the knife in your chest and your pulse slowly fading, and Bakugo flipped you onto your back and lifted you up moving through the air. That moment you noticed his hands, more importantly, the red string wrapped around his finger and connecting with yours. "I'm sorry, Bakugo." "Don't fucking die on me, extra. Just hold on a little longer," he shouted and you hummed one last song for him and grasped his hand, "I hope you find someone else to love," you weakly spoke before you released your last breath. Bakugo felt it at that moment, the bone-crushing feeling, almost as if a pressure doubled down on him as if a part of him were dying. The pain in his chest didn't subside, but it dulled enough for him to bring the limp singer to the doctor demanding for the doctor to fix y/n. The doctor brought your body in and came out a few minutes later speaking quietly, "I'm sorry. I can't do anything. It's too late." "I understand," Bakugo found himself saying before leaving the hospital and walking. He looked down at his shaky hands when he noticed the red string cut and frayed, and he couldn't take it anymore."Dammit," he screamed at the sky, "Why the fuck did it have to be y/n. Why wasn't I strong enough to fucking protect y/n." There was no answer, and as he walked back to the dorms, he hummed y/f/s/s.