#I hope it's beyond her scope and she'll have to refer me to one of her partners who's an MD for a consult that would be nice

[wallabywannabe]

I called the ENT office to leave a message to ask if I could get started on antibiotics or something because the pain is getting worse and I don't want to wait 6 days until my appointment, and the front desk person was like, "ok what's you're date of birth?" and I gave it to her and she kept trying to tell me happy birthday! And I was like oh yeah thank you that's very sweet but really not what I care about right now!

A diagnosis for my birthday? Could I be so lucky?

[animereaderinsertwriter]

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Tags/Warnings: Bakugou/Reader, Angst interspersed with fluff and intimacy, ambiguous ending for the first work but will be resolved in a good ending in the second, reader has an empathy quirk, witch!reader, inspired by St. Trinian's (please go watch it, it needs more love!), institutional exploitation and abuse, first kiss, mentions/references of underage drinking, MINORS DNI

ao3 link here

Three days after the party, the press exploded with news of St. Angela's horrific educational practices. Bakugou, who knew the whole truth, surmised that (Y/N) had left out the bits about magic, but she came out with everything else and made a statement on the national news. 

"No," she told one of the reporters, her face solemn and sure. "I'm not angry with my teachers, or even the school's administration. They were doing what they thought was best for us."

That was possibly the worst thing about the whole situation; (Y/N) almost seemed to think that she was the one in the wrong. Even on the news, her expression was sad, plaintive— it was as though she were asking forgiveness from some unseen, unknown party. Even Bakugou's mother noticed, commenting as she watched the story play out across the headlines. 

"You'd think they'd fuckin' lock those scumbag teachers up instead of giving a microphone to that poor little peach," she said, crunching on a slice of cucumber. "Don't they have anything better to do than to terrorize that poor girl?"

Apparently not, and neither did Bakugou— the moment the news had reached him, he'd been steadily calling (Y/N), praying that she would pick up, though she never did. His calls went straight to voicemail, even after two days, and on the third day, his phone wouldn't call her number at all. On day four, when he'd finally given up hope of calling and had every intention of tracking her down personally, another story came on the news. 

"Missing, huh," said Mitsuki, hands on her hips. "I bet the bastards got to her."

Bakugou whirled to look at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Mitsuki paused, her hands wrapped tightly around a coffee mug. When she looked at Bakugou, it was with an unreadable expression. 

"I had a friend from that school once, much like yours," she replied, averting her eyes. "One night, she told me some things that I couldn't believe, and then she disappeared. When I saw her again, she was… different. Naturally, I asked her what happened, but she couldn't tell me; she opened her mouth, closed it back, and she cried. I'll never forget that look…"

She shivered. Bakugou was disquieted; he'd never seen his mother this affected by anything. 

"Stay away from this, Katsuki," she warned him, looking away. "Usually, I'm all for heroics, but you may end up hurting your friend instead of helping. This is beyond the scope of anything you're qualified to deal with."

Bakugou had never thought his mother could be afraid of anything, but if he didn't know any better, he'd say she was terrified. For her to say anything to him preempting an unspoken, half-formed plan of his was highly unusual; Bakugou couldn't imagine a force on earth that could cow Bakugou Mitsuki, but if there was one, it would be the same one that could break (Y/N)'s spirit. 

"Will they hurt her?" he found himself asking, feeling almost outside himself. 

"Yes." His mother didn't hesitate. "But she'll survive. If you get involved… it's possible neither of you will."

Faced with a choice like that, Bakugou was stricken. What to do— act, and risk both his life and (Y/N)'s? Or give up and do nothing except hope for the best?"

For the first time in his life since The Deku Problem, Bakugou was unsure of what to do. 

***

(Y/N) came to naked in an empty room, tied to a chair. She was almost certain she had been beaten badly— her body was sore and aching, more so than she had predicted she would be from withdrawal alone— but she didn't remember how it happened. Her throat was dry, and she wanted water, but she knew better than to call out and ask for any; there would be no sustenance for her now, not after what she had done. 

"I had to do it," she said aloud, her body shaking with hunger, fatigue, and fever. "I had to, it was the right thing."

There was no answer; she had expected none. All she could do was hang her sorry head and cry, her body too dehydrated to produce anything but dry sobs. 

"Pitiful," said a voice (Y/N) knew well. "I never pegged you for a crybaby."

(Y/N) jerked against her bonds, powerless thanks to the quirk inhibitor placed around her neck. 

"Blair?" she asked, her voice like sandpaper on bark. "Blair, is that you?"

A hand touched her shoulder, and though (Y/N) was convinced she was hallucinating, she flinched at the contact. She didn't see anything, even a shadow, but she supposed that could be Blair's camouflage quirk at work if she truly was there.

"They beat you good," said possibly-imaginary-Blair. "I think your collarbone is broken, and possibly some ribs. Your right ankle doesn't look too hot either. Do you think you can stand?"

(Y/N) could barely see past the swelling of her eyes, but she nodded. 

"Yeah, probably. It'll hurt, but I can."

"Okay. Let's get you out of here then."

Gentle hands untied the ropes that crossed (Y/N)'s body, and a few seconds later, the quirk inhibitor around her neck grew white-hot; once (Y/N) was done screaming hoarsely from the pain, she reached up and touched it to find that Blair had used her Transfiguration to turn it into a piece of rope, which she promptly cut off. (Y/N)'s throat throbbed where it had been burned, but it was worth the pain to be able to sense Blair's emotional presence once more, to truly know she was there, even if she hated (Y/N) for what she'd done— which, incidentally, she did. 

"Come on," she said roughly, pulling at (Y/N)'s hand. "I can't hide you, so we'll have to be quick."

"Quick" was more difficult than (Y/N) had anticipated. She stumbled along as quickly as she could, but it was still several minutes of pain and humiliation until she limped to the nearest exit. In fact, it took all of her remaining strength to make it outside, and once she did, she collapsed, tears welling in her eyes from her agony. 

"Get up," said Blair, dropping her camouflage. "You made it all the way here— you can make it a little further."

"I can't," she cried, gasping from the pain. "I can't."

Blair made a frustrated noise, and despite herself, (Y/N) flinched. As she did so, unbearable pain flared in her ribs, and, to make matters worse, (Y/N) sensed that Blair felt something between disgust and pity for her as (Y/N) wretched, dry-heaving past her tears.

"If you hate me so much," said (Y/N) between heaves, suddenly bitter, "If I am a creature that is worthy of such pity, then why don't you just kill me?"

"Because you were my friend," said Blair. "And because Sabrina would cry. I hate it when she cries."

Once (Y/N) was able, Blair helped her up and they walked down the street together until they reached an alley that hummed with magical energy. After entering the alley, the noise of the street quieted to a low hum, and (Y/N) found Sabrina kneeling in meditation, supplying the barrier runes around the alley with her strength. 

"She's here," said Blair, crossing her arms. "That was my end of the deal."

Sabrina opened her eyes— big, shining eyes the color of cornflowers— and (Y/N) saw that they were wet. 

"Thank you," said Sabrina, her voice and manner stiff. "You can leave now, if you want."

In Sabrina, (Y/N) sensed no judgement, only sadness, and she thought that just might be even harder to bear than Blair's pity and disgust. 

"I'll stay," said Blair. "I'm not one to abandon my friends, unlike some people we know."

Anger spiked in Sabrina, but she showed no outward sign of it. She only gave (Y/N) an opened water bottle and pulled a salve from her pouch, bidding her friend to sit.

"This should help with the inflammation," she said, tenderly rubbing the salve first on (Y/N)'s eyes, then her torso. "You'll need an ambulance once I'm finished, but you'll heal more quickly with this."

"Why?" (Y/N) croaked, unable to comprehend such undeserved kindness. "Why are you doing this?"

Sabrina paused for a moment, glancing at Blair, then met (Y/N)'s eyes with a sad surety. 

"Because we love you," she replied. "Because you've been punished enough, and truth be told, we couldn't bear it if they Sealed you. You're the most powerful sorceress of our generation— how could we let anyone take that from you and call ourselves your friends?"

(Y/N) cried then, cried for what felt like ages. The worst pain, she thought, did not come from her broken ribs, or her pounding head, or any other bodily hurt. No, the most acute pain she felt was the hurt that flared in both of her friends, of the heartache they felt. She was the cause of this mess; she had ruined everything— and for what?

"Shut up," Blair snapped, her hurt so overwhelming that (Y/N)'s body threatened to wretch once more. "You don't get to be sad— you did this to us! You have the advantage to know what any of us is feeling at any given time, but you never said a word! You never told us, so of course no one helped you!"

Blair was right— but what was (Y/N) meant to have done? She'd been alone from the very start; she could never have asked her friends to carry this burden with her.

"I'm sorry," she wept, her head hanging low. "I'm so sorry."

"What will you do now?" Sabrina asked, ignoring Blair's outburst and (Y/N)'s cries as though they had never happened. "Surely you had a plan in all this?"

(Y/N) shrugged. She hadn't exactly planned on surviving this far, and said as much. 

"Fool," Blair grumbled, but Sabrina patted her arm reassuringly. 

"She knows that. What we need her to figure out now is where she goes from here before we do what we talked about."

An intense look passed between Blair and Sabrina, and something akin to guilt roiled between them. 

"What are you planning?" (Y/N) asked, suddenly wary. "If you think that just because you rescued me I won't tear you limb-from-limb for my freedom—"

Sabrina shook her head, cutting (Y/N) off. 

"It's not safe for you to know what you know, to be who you are. You know the coven won't let you live as long as you know their secrets, so Blair and I— well, we thought we would try to seal your memory. Just in parts, mind, and I haven't actually practiced on anything except mice, but it seems like the best way to ensure your safety."

(Y/N) began to protest, but stopped herself, considering her options. Her friends were right; it was dangerous for (Y/N) to exist as she was. If they could alter her mind a bit, block out her knowledge of the coven but keep her knowledge of her own magic… 

"What are the stats on this?" she asked, and Sabrina shrugged. 

"Fifty percent chance it doesn't work at all. Thirty percent chance I block off too much or too little, resulting in various negative outcomes, and twenty percent that it actually works."

"Will you let me keep my magic?"

Blair scoffed. "Why else would we have recused you?"

That was all the answer (Y/N) needed. 

"If this thing fails to the point where I'm insane, kill me," she told them, her face deadly serious. "I don't want to suffer that way, or to cause anyone else suffering. Can you do that?"

Blair and Sabrina both nodded. 

"Excellent. I trust you two to fill me in and help me along if it works— do what needs to be done."

Sabrina hesitated. 

"You're absolutely sure?" she asked, her big blue eyes watery in the moonlight. "This is kind of a permanent decision."

(Y/N) tilted her head back, and though it ached to do so, she forced her swollen eyes open to look up at the moon and stars, drinking in the glory of the night. It was a painfully beautiful evening, and she allowed the moment to fill her, caress her, and open her very heart to the sky, and when she looked down, she knew what she would decide. 

"Yes, I'm sure," she murmured, taking each of her friends' hands in her own so that they could feel her peace and clarity. "This is my choice."

Sabrina nodded, moving to put her hands on (Y/N)'s head, and Blair turned her back, the very picture of a guard on watch. This would change everything, (Y/N) knew— her life would never be the same, but her friends would always be there for her, just like this. 

It was a comfort. 

"Thank you," she said, looking once more at the stars— so beautiful and bright midst the black of night— and the last thing she knew before her vision faded was warm hands on either side of her face, and the comfort of being with the people who loved her. 

***

In the end, (Y/N)'s body was never found. Eventually, the news stopped covering the story, moving on to other hot stories to cover. In a month's time, she was all but forgotten by the world—but not by Bakugou. He would always, always remember her, and the anger and helplessness he felt when she was taken from him. Her disappearance— her death— would remain the greatest failure in his mind, and he would hold it close to his chest, using it to remind himself that sometimes, you really can't save everyone.