Katsuki Bakugou Ao3 fics

moritūrī tē salūtant. by ; nitroglycerin_and_paraffin (Chloroform_Boy)

Summary:

It's been more than a month since Bakugou Katsuki was kidnapped by the League of Villains. They took him and then disappeared without a trace, leaving no clues behind, no trails to follow, nothing but a pool of blood underneath a chair still draped with chains.

The last time the world saw him, Bakugou Katsuki was loud and brash and sixteen years old. And now he will always be loud and brash and sixteen years old, frozen in time, never aging. He will have no more birthdays, will claim no more victories, and will never live his dreams out to their fullest potential.

Because he’s dead.

—

Alone in the dark, Katsuki opens his eyes.

Chapter 1
Notes:
alright! this thing is officially being rewritten [revamped??? i’m not really changing anything i’m just making it better and slightly more coherent lmao] but instead of deleting it i’m just gonna replace the chapters with the new ones, so. anyways, the chapter warnings will always be in the end notes!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text
dying is the easy part; living is the trick.

- atticus

Time drips by like syrup from a bottle, sickly sweet and languid. He’s awake, but he isn’t, dimly aware of his own surrounding as if he’s hearing the echo of them through a thousand layers of fabric. When he was younger, Kariage told him that it took the average person seven minutes to fall asleep, but it took that same average person ten to fifteen minutes to wake back up. It's been years, but Katsuki still remembers that, remembers everything that Kariage told him, those useless little facts he spouted off that stuck with you for the rest of your life: sleep was a pit of quicksand, harder to get out of than it was to get in. Like jumping from a roof, like falling in love - it dragged you down, down, down, trying to make sure that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you struggled.

Kariage, Katsuki thinks, but the thought of him doesn’t prompt sadness. It feels like a waste, to miss him, to miss anything.

He can hear voices, now, faint and tinny in his ringing ears. His ears hurt, his head hurts, everything fucking hurts. Even now, he can get no peace.

Someone says, “Keep him down,” and he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or not. He doesn’t know what’s real and can only assume that everything around him is fake.

The air smells like ozone, smells like how it felt to have a hand around his throat, to feel his eyes sliding shut and his thoughts going blurry and he just wants it to fucking stop. “Tomura,” somebody else says, and he recognizes this voice, too. He can’t remember how. “This is hurting him. Look, his heart rate is -”

His fingers are tingling, his skin feels tight. He’s so dizzy that he feels like he may fall upward off of whatever it is that he’s laying on. It's like when he was a kid, just after he manifested his Quirk, when he passed out on the way home from school and didn’t wake up for two hours even after the nurses in the hospital stabbed him with needles and dripped sugar water into his veins. The doctor had said, patiently, nitroglycerin, and Katsuki’s mother had cut him off, had said, eyes flashing as they glanced over her son, poison. There was something bitter in those eyes, something dark and twisted that made him feel so, so small. Like a fucking snake.