#supporting my husband | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cei1ne · 24 days ago

Text

—You have Amnesia and it begins taking a toll on you and your husband

༺ღ༒ Summary: You got into a accident which lead to you not remembering your life with your husband. As you arrive and don’t remember a single detail, it slowly begins to burn Bakugou out and in the end, an argument leads into you falling into a coma.

* . : ｡ ✿ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

˚ ೃ࿔₊•Tags: Angst; Angst with fluff ending; Fluff; married life; Aged!up

*˚⁺‧͙Warnings: Amnesia; Angst; swearing maybe; Coma; Arguments?

•˖*⑅♡Word count: 4.2k

ˏˋ°•*➷A/N: I was feeling sad and thought, why not make a scenario of a tsundere man breaking down and living a miserable life after his wife he adored more than anything can’t remember a single about him? English isn’t my first language! I’m sorry if you shed a tear xx

The hospital smell still lingers on you as you step out of the car, Katsuki’s hand firm yet careful on the small of your back. He walks beside you silently, guiding you up the path to your home—his home. The once-familiar sight of the towering house now feels foreign, even intimidating.

Katsuki hasn’t said much since picking you up. His usual fiery demeanor has been subdued, his sharp tongue dulled into quiet restraint.

“It’s your home,” he mutters, his voice unusually soft, laced with an almost painful longing. “Our home.”

The words hang in the air as you stare at the house, your mind blank. He’s hoping for something—anything—a flicker of recognition in your eyes. But nothing comes.

After the accident, everything changed. The doctors had explained the severity of the head trauma, the memory loss that might be permanent. It wasn’t your fault, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to accept. Katsuki Bakugou, the number one Pro Hero, couldn’t protect the one person who mattered most to him.

He takes a deep breath, opening the door for you. “Go ahead.”

You step inside hesitantly, the space feeling vast and unfamiliar. The faint smell of burnt caramel—a scent that should’ve been comforting—makes you wrinkle your nose instead.

“It’s…nice,” you say after a pause, your voice awkward and distant.

His ruby eyes narrow slightly as he studies you. The words feel hollow, a far cry from the warmth and vibrancy you used to radiate. You weren’t smiling like you used to. You weren’t cracking jokes or teasing him like you used to. And most of all, you weren’t looking at him the way you used to—with love.

“Take your time,” Katsuki says gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for you. “It’ll… come back.” But even he doesn’t sound convinced.

__________________________________________

Weeks after the accident, your condition had not improved much. The bruises on your face, though fading, were stark reminders of what had happened. Bandages still wrapped tightly around your head served as a physical representation of the mental gap that now defined your life. Your movements were slow and cautious, often unsteady. Sometimes you’d pause mid-step, as if unsure where to go or what to do, and Katsuki would rush to steady you, his hands firm but trembling slightly.

Your demeanor had shifted entirely. Where there was once a spark in your eyes, a curiosity and a fire that drew people to you, now there was only a distant emptiness. You spoke softly, often hesitantly, as if the words you were saying didn’t belong to you. Simple things—like recognizing objects around the house or remembering how to make tea—became monumental tasks, and each failure weighed heavily on you.

Katsuki noticed it all. Every stumble, every fleeting expression of frustration that crossed your face when your memory failed you, he took it to heart. At first, he masked his emotions well, trying to be the strong one, as he always had been. But it was impossible to hide the cracks forming beneath the surface. COME BACK GIRL WE NEED YOU

_________________________________

He started skipping meals, spending every waking moment either helping you or drowning himself in work to avoid his thoughts. His patrols as the number one pro hero became a crutch—an escape. But even there, he wasn’t the same. He’d snap at his sidekicks over minor mistakes or growl at reporters asking about your condition.

When he was home, he barely slept. Most nights, he sat by your side, watching you sleep restlessly. Sometimes you’d mutter in your dreams—names of people he didn’t recognize, fragments of a past life that wasn’t tied to him—and it killed him inside. He’d reach out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, hoping that maybe, just maybe, something would change.

But nothing did.

His physical appearance began to reflect his inner turmoil. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and his sharp jawline became slightly hollowed from missed meals. His usual confidence—bordering on arrogance—was nowhere to be found. Even his explosions, once a controlled release of power, became unpredictable and reckless during training sessions. He was pushing himself too hard, too fast, as if trying to outrun the reality of what had happened.

_________________________________

One night, after a particularly grueling day, he came home to find you sitting in the living room, staring blankly at a family photo. It was one of the two of you from a happier time—your arms around each other, your smiles radiant. You turned to him as he entered, your eyes filled with confusion.

“I… I don’t remember this,” you said, your voice trembling. “Was I happy?”

The question shattered him. He crossed the room in three strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands cupped your face, his eyes burning with an intensity that only he could possess.

“Of course you were,” he said, his voice breaking. “You were the happiest damn person I knew. You lit up every room you walked into. You made me… you made me better.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. You nodded, as if trying to accept his words, but the doubt in your expression was unmistakable. He felt his chest tighten, the weight of your uncertainty crushing him.

Later that night, after he thought you had fallen asleep, he sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He didn’t hear you stir, didn’t see the way you watched him through half-lidded eyes as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. NOOO STAY STRONG MY BABY

_________________________________

The days pass in a haze of awkward silences and hesitant conversations. Katsuki tries to act normal, but the cracks in his fiery confidence start to show. Every time you flinch at his touch or hesitate to respond to him, it’s like another stab to the heart.

You spend most of your time wandering the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Katsuki keeps himself busy training or patrolling as much as possible, but he never strays too far. He’s always home by nightfall, keeping a watchful eye on you from a distance.

One evening, you’re sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a plate of food that’s long gone cold. Katsuki sits across from you, arms crossed, his expression tight with frustration.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he says, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not hungry,” shut your big back ass up girl you murmur, not meeting his eyes.

“Damn it, you’ve got to eat something,” he snaps, the edge in his voice slipping through despite his efforts to keep calm.

You look up at him, frowning. “I said I’m not hungry.” I say as I’m devouring a whole chips bag while writing this

The silence that follows is heavy, the tension between you palpable. Katsuki stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want.” He stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later that night, you lie in bed, tossing and turning. The bed feels too big, too empty, even though Katsuki is right there beside you. His back is turned to you, his breathing steady but shallow. You can tell he isn’t asleep.

Your eyes drift to the walls, lined with framed photographs. Pictures of the two of you—laughing, kissing, holding each other. There’s even one of you in his hero agency, grinning proudly with your arms around his neck.

You should feel something looking at them. Nostalgia, love, something. But all you feel is emptiness.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the darkness.

Katsuki hears you. His fingers twitch, and for a moment, it seems like he might turn over and pull you close. But he doesn’t. Instead, he clenches his fists under the covers and mutters, “It’s not your fault.” MY SHAYLAAA

_________________________________

As the weeks drag on, Katsuki begins to unravel. The fiery determination that once defined him is now replaced by a simmering frustration he can barely contain.

One afternoon, you’re sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The news is playing, but you’re not really paying attention. Suddenly, a memory surfaces—a fleeting thought about a song you used to like.

“I remembered something!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter.

Katsuki, who’s just walked in from patrol tired and pissed as always, raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I think I used to like that song… the one that goes, uh…” You hum a few bars, struggling to recall the rest.

His face falls. “That’s it? That’s what you remembered?”

You frown. “Well, yeah. It’s a start, right?”

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A start? That’s useless.” I can’t blame him, I hate this girl even tho I created her

The words hit you like a slap. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Every time you remember something, it’s something stupid like a song or a movie. What about us? What about the things that actually matter?” Boy it’s not our fault ain’t no way you’re blaming us!?

“I’m trying my hardest!” you shout, standing up to face him. “Do you think I like not remembering? Do you think I chose this?”

The argument escalates quickly, both of you yelling over each other until finally, Katsuki storms out, slamming the door behind him.

_________________________________

You wander aimlessly, tears streaming down your face. Your vision blurs as you make your way to the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t see the edge of the counter until it’s too late.

The sharp corner slams into your injured head, and you collapse to the floor. Pain explodes in your skull, and darkness begins to creep into the edges of your vision.

Katsuki hears the loud thud and rushes in, his heart stopping at the sight of you on the floor.

“Shit!” He’s at your side in seconds, his hands trembling as he lifts your head gently. Blood seeps through the bandage on your head, staining his hands and the floor.

“Y/n, stay with me!” he barks, his voice shaking with panic.

You look up at him weakly, your lips trembling. “Katsuki… I’m sorry… I’m sorry for being a horrible wife…” “UNNIE” — “Young-mi! Young-mi!”

“Don’t say that!” he growls, his voice breaking. “You’re not horrible. You’re perfect. You hear me? You’re fucking perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and Katsuki’s heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest.

_________________________________

The next few weeks are hell. You’re in a coma, and Katsuki is barely holding it together. He spends every waking moment by your side, refusing to leave the hospital even when his friends and colleagues beg him to take care of himself.

His once fiery spirit is now a pale ember. He hasn’t shaved in days, his stubble growing thick along his jaw. Dark circles rim his eyes, and his usual sharp demeanor has dulled into quiet despair.

He talks to you constantly, hoping that somehow, his voice will reach you.

“Wake up, damn it,” he mutters one night, his head resting on the edge of your bed. “You can’t leave me like this. You’re too stubborn to give up, remember?” We love a man that motivates us

But the days pass, and you remain unresponsive.

_________________________________

One evening, Katsuki finally succumbs to exhaustion. He falls asleep with his head resting on your lap, his hand gripping yours loosely. For once, his face is peaceful, the lines of worry softened in sleep.

When your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is him—your Katsuki. Memories come rushing back in fragments, like pieces of a shattered mirror slowly coming together.

“Katsuki…”

His eyes snap open, and for a moment, he looks dazed. Then he sees you—really sees you—and his heart nearly stops.

“Y/n?” His voice cracks as he sits up, his hands cupping your face gently. “You’re awake?”

You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I remember… I remember everything.”

The relief that washes over his face is indescribable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mutters into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clinging to him. “I’m so sorry, Katsuki.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red and glassy. “Don’t be. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kisses you, his lips gentle but desperate, as if trying to pour every ounce of his love and relief into that one moment.

For the first time in weeks, the house feels like home again. For the first time in weeks, he feels like life is worth living again. For the first time in weeks…

He feels alive.

348 notes · View notes