Off the Clock
Part2 Part4
(3,1k) pro hero!bakugo x PR manager!reader. established casual relationship. unexpected pregnancy. pregnancy test. abortion discussion. mentions of sex. workplace relationship. boss/employee dynamic. emotional distress. crying. more specific warnings will be added at the beginning of each chapter.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The hero gala was less than three weeks away. Everyone in the office was buried in work. The stacks of folders piled on my desk, the endless open tabs on my computer screen, and the notebook resting beside me were proof enough. Yet, I couldn't focus properly on any of it. The gala’s seating chart was open on my monitor—attendees, the heroes' entrance order, the press program. I also needed to draft Bakugo's speech. Honestly, he altered every single text I ever handed him to say whatever he wanted anyway, but at least he didn't do anything completely ridiculous.
Sienna, the new secretary who had started just two weeks ago, dropped off a list of sponsorships and related emails on my desk. I thanked her with a small smile. I picked up my coffee; it had gone cold. Wincing, I took another sip anyway. That coffee was the only thing that had entered my stomach since morning. Maybe that was why I felt so sick.
My phone vibrated. I looked down at the screen.
Nina (13:06): Did you eat?
I rolled my eyes. Nina had become fiercely overprotective ever since I found out about the pregnancy. She had always been my protector, even when we were kids. She used to stand up to the bullies at the park, calling them all idiots to their faces. And back in our teenage years, when my first boyfriend broke my heart, she had almost beaten the guy up. I chuckled softly to myself. Even though we were twins, she always acted like my older sister. Well, she was born a few minutes before me, after all. Ever since she learned I was pregnant, she spent every single evening at my place. She'd get furious whenever she caught me skipping meals. But I couldn't help it; the smell of food just made my stomach turn.
While I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed again.
Nina (13:08): ????
Hina (13:08): I had coffee.
Nina (13:08): Coffee is not food.
Hina (13:09): I know.
Nina (13:09): Then eat something.
Nina (13:09): Or I swear I will come over there and force-feed you myself.
A soft smile tugged at my lips.
Then, the sound of footsteps and voices echoed from the office entrance. I lifted my head. Kirishima walked in, with Bakugo right beside him. They must have just returned from their patrol. Kirishima was holding a small paper bag.
Bakugo’s sharp gaze locked instantly onto me. The smile vanished from my face. I didn't know if he noticed, but Kirishima certainly did.
“Hey, Hina!” Kirishima called out, walking over to my desk. “I picked this up on the way back.” He lifted the bag slightly. “Want one?”
The sweet aroma wafting from the bag made my stomach violently churn. I quickly averted my eyes before the discomfort could register on my face. “No, thank you.”
Kirishima paused. “Are you sure? It looks amazing.”
“Yeah. My stomach is just a bit upset today.”
I could feel Bakugo’s burning gaze heavy on me. Kirishima offered a warm smile. “Take care of yourself then. I wouldn't want anything happening to the only woman Bakugo actually listens to.”
Bakugo rolled his eyes. I forced a small, strained smile. “Right, as if he ever listens to a word I say.”
Kirishima let out a cheerful laugh and set the bag down on the edge of my desk. “Well, I'll leave it here anyway. Maybe you'll crave it later. We should go turn in this patrol report, right Bakugo?” He tapped Bakugo on the shoulder and headed down the corridor. Kirishima knew all about the tense atmosphere between us, so as usual, he stepped in to diffuse the situation before an explosion could happen in the middle of the agency.
Bakugo's POV
The moment I stepped through the office doors, I couldn't stop my eyes from locking directly onto her. She was sitting at her desk, buried under those stupid gala files. But that wasn't what was driving me insane.
Right before I walked in, I had caught a glimpse of her looking down at her phone, a faint, protective smile softening her face. That gentle expression... the kind of smile she hadn't shown me in days. Who the hell was she giving it to?
But the second she noticed me, that smile was cut off like a knife. Her mood completely soured, and she hastily flipped her phone face down on the desk. I gritted my teeth. What was she hiding from me?
Kirishima, with his usual annoying cheerfulness, strolled over to her desk and held out that pastry bag. "Hey, Hina! I picked this up on the way back. Want one?" I watched as Hina quickly averted her eyes from the bag. "No, thank you," she said instantly. When Kirishima pressed her, she claimed her stomach was just a bit upset.
Even Kirishima’s dumb joke—"Take care of yourself then. I wouldn't want anything happening to the only woman Bakugo actually listens to"—couldn't break through the walls she had built up. She just forced a hollow smile and muttered, "Right, as if he ever listens to a word I say."
Kirishima left the bag on her desk and nudged my shoulder. "We should go turn in this patrol report, right Bakugo?"
I cast one last, harsh glare at Hina—and at that damn phone. Turning on my heel, I marched ahead. The heavy thud of my boots against the floor matched the angry rhythm of my racing thoughts.
As we cleared the main office area and headed toward the report room, Kirishima’s grating voice shattered the silence.
"Man, what’s up with Hina? She looked pale as a ghost," Kirishima said, shoving his hands into his pockets while scouting my reaction out of the corner of his eye. "I'd bet money she's had nothing but coffee all day, though I can't prove it. Plus... she seemed to be totally avoiding your eyes, huh?"
Kirishima knew about those "after-hours" moments we shared. He was curious. And that curiosity only made my blood boil hotter.
"Why the hell should I care what she eats or drinks?" I hissed, trying to choke down the growl in my voice. "As long as she does her job, that's all that matters."
"Come on, Bakugo, you can't fool me," Kirishima smirked, though his tone grew serious. "I can feel the heavy air between you two. Did you guys get into a fight? Or..." Kirishima hesitated, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Is there someone else in Hina's life? She was smiling at her phone earlier like..."
Someone else.
The words detonated in my mind like a flash grenade. Someone else. Someone who was touching her hair, holding her waist, making her smile in a way I hadn't seen in days. My jaw clenched tight. Why did I even care? It shouldn't matter to me. Yeah.
I didn't give a damn.
"Shut the fuck up, Kirishima!" I snapped, halting dead in the middle of the hallway. I spun around to face him. "I don't give a shit about who is in her life, got it? Who she talks to or smiles at is none of my damn business!"
Kirishima immediately raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Alright, alright... calm down, man. I'm just saying... Hina doesn't look well. If something happened between you two and you hurt her, you need to fix it. She's way more than just your PR manager, and we both know it."
"Stop talking out of your ass and move!" I growled.
I turned back around, gripping my teeth so hard they nearly shattered. But Kirishima's toxic words had already taken root in my head. Someone else. It was the only logical explanation for why she was avoiding me, ignoring my messages, and showing up late to work. She had let someone into her life. She was pushing aside the nights she spent with me to make room for some other guy.
As I shoved the report room door open, I had already declared a brutal, silent war against a ghost. I knew Hina was hiding something from me. She had a secret, and she was shutting me out completely.
Hina's POV
By the time I finally left the office, darkness had long since settled over the city. The sky was pitch black, hanging above me like the suffocating weight of my own thoughts. Yellow light from the streetlamps bled onto the pavement as crowds of people rushed past, eager to get somewhere. I just walked, letting my feet carry me home on autopilot. My body knew the way, but my mind was still trapped back at the hospital, frozen inside that cold, quiet examination room.
"Four to five weeks." The doctor’s voice echoed relentlessly in my head, a loop I couldn’t switch off. "I see a small gestational sac inside the uterus."
I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter against my shoulder. Suddenly, a sharp car horn blared nearby, startling me out of my trance. I looked up, blinking. I hadn’t even realized I’d made it to my apartment building. I pulled my keys out and unlocked the door. The apartment greeted me with its usual heavy silence. I took out my phone and quickly texted Nina:
Hina (18:37): I want to be alone tonight.
Her reply came almost instantly:
Nina (18:37): Okay, but don't forget to eat something.
She didn't press further. That was just how Nina was; she never forced me into anything, though it didn't mean she wasn't worried sick. Leaving the phone on the kitchen table, I moved to the fridge. I opened it and lifted the lid off one of the food containers, but the moment the scent hit my nose, my stomach violently rolled. I slammed it shut and gripped the edge of the sink, gasping for air.
It’s just stress. I lied to myself, trying desperately to believe it. But the excuse carried no weight anymore. I knew the truth now; I knew exactly why I was nauseous. Slowly, my hand drifted down toward my stomach, but I yanked it back instantly. I didn't know what I was doing. It felt as though if I touched it, everything would become too real—and reality was the one thing I was desperately trying to escape.
I couldn't force down a single bite that night. I drank a glass of water, and then another, but the underlying sickness and anxiety refused to fade. Moving to the living room, I switched on the television just to drown out the silence. A news broadcast was playing, highlighting a hero who had successfully thwarted a villain attack downtown. The reporter’s voice was filled with frantic excitement as action shots flashed across the screen. A hero. Strong. Reliable. Someone who saves people.
I grabbed the remote and shut it off, letting the heavy quiet reclaim the room. Against my will, Bakugo’s face flashed through my mind. I had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about him, yet he always found a way to occupy the center of my mind. I remembered the intense, burning expression on his face when he looked at me at the office earlier. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he had asked. Bakugo wasn't an idiot; I knew he hadn't believed my lie about seasonal allergies, but I couldn't guess what he was actually thinking. Maybe he didn't care at all. Maybe he was just pissed off that I was late or unfocused. Maybe—
Suddenly, my phone vibrated, making my heart lurch into my throat. I looked down at the screen.
Bakugo Katsuki.
No text. He was calling me directly. I froze, staring at the flashing name until the ringing finally cut out, leaving the screen blank. I hadn't answered. A few seconds later, the screen lit up with a text notification:
Bakugo (21:18): Why didn't you answer?
I stared at the words but left my fingers still. I flipped the phone face down on the table, trying to ignore it, but within three minutes, the anxiety won. I picked it back up.
Hina (21:21): I was busy.
His reply came instantly:
Bakugo (21:21): Doing what?
My brows furrowed. Why the hell did he care so much? My thumbs hovered over the keyboard before I typed back a single word:
Hina (21:22): Why?
No answer came. I waited, staring at the screen. One minute passed. Then two. Finally, his last response appeared:
Bakugo (21:24): Forget it.
I dropped the phone back onto the table, a suffocating weight settling deep in my chest. Was he angry? Was he suspecting something? Or was he—No. I forced myself to stop. Bakugo didn't know anything, and he never would.
I retreated to my bedroom, changed out of my work clothes, and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. Pulling my phone out one last time, I opened a private search browser. For a long, agonizing minute, I just stared at the blinking cursor. Then, my trembling fingers began to move: “5 weeks pregnant abortion Japan”
Dozens of search results flooded the screen. I stared at the cold web pages for a moment before clicking the first link, reading through the text without truly processing it. I clicked another, forcing myself to look at the clinical terms over and over again. Medical abortion. Surgical abortion. Early pregnancy. Post-procedure care. The words blurred together, and my eyes began to sting.
Letting the phone drop into my lap, I leaned back and stared blankly up at the ceiling. What am I going to do? I’m going to have a baby. The thought formed clearly in my mind for a split second, and the sheer weight of it snatched the air right out of my lungs. But just as quickly, panic surged through me, and I shook my head fiercely in the dark.
No. No, I'm not.
I couldn't do this. I was only twenty-three years old, and when I could barely control the strings of my own life, how could I take responsibility for another? I had a job, a career I was trying to build, a life that belonged to me. And right in the middle of it all... there was Bakugo.
I squeezed my eyes shut, picturing his harsh, unyielding face. What would happen if I told him about the baby? Would he believe me? Would he be shocked? Or would he be furious with me? Would he take responsibility, or would he just look at me with those cold, distant eyes and ask, "What do you want me to do?" This last thought made my stomach twist worse than the nausea. Because I didn't know. I couldn't predict what he would do or how he would react, and I refused to shape my entire life around his single answer, leaving myself at his mercy.
Immediately after, another thought seeped into my mind: my mother, our childhood, Nina, and our tiny house. Images of my mother leaving for work at the crack of dawn, returning late at night, and falling asleep on the couch out of sheer exhaustion replayed in my mind. She had never blamed us, never made us feel bad for a single day, but I had seen it. I had seen with my own eyes how a person slowly burns out, how incredibly hard it is to raise two children entirely alone. And now, I was terrified of inflicting that same life on my own child.
What if Bakugo leaves? A lump formed in my throat at the thought. What if he doesn't stay? I didn't want to be unfair to him by thinking this way, but the past has a habit of planting toxic thoughts in your head when you least want them. My father had walked out. My mother was left entirely alone. And I was terrified of meeting the exact same fate. Not because I was certain Bakugo would do it, but simply because life had taught me that people know how to walk away all too well.
I picked up my phone again. This time, I typed my query into the search bar: “Do people regret getting abortions?”
I read through the results one by one. Some people regretted it, some didn't. For some, it was the hardest decision of their lives; for others, it was the right choice. But none of the answers on the internet were my answer, because none of those stories were me.
I dropped the phone onto the bed, but picked it up again a few seconds later, unable to stop myself. I knew Nina had been trying to sort things out for me all day, but this was a step I had to take with my own hands. I opened the hospital's website and clicked on the appointment page. A few different slots appeared on the screen. My finger hovered over the cold glass, right in line with the confirmation button.
If I do this, there is no turning back. My heart pounded against my ribs. But if I don't, my life will never be the same again.
I sat frozen for a long time, doing nothing. Then, closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tapped the screen. The appointment was confirmed.
I stared at the screen. It all looked so simple, so completely mundane. Just a few seconds ago, I had made the biggest, most irreversible decision of my life, yet the world remained exactly the same.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rested my hands over my stomach. This time, I didn't pull them away right away. I stayed like that for a while in the darkness. Then, as if afraid to shatter the silence, I whispered:
"I'm sorry."
I didn't even know who I was apologizing to. Maybe to myself, maybe to the life that never would be, or maybe because my own life would never be the same again. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn't cry. I felt too numb to weep. I simply lay back on the bed, staring at the empty ceiling, waiting for the night to swallow me whole
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
heyoooo I actually wrote the chapter last night, I thought I'd post it this morning, but I was busy. I already woke up late this morning, and then there was the VNL final match. (WE BECAME CHAMPIONS🥳🥳🥳🥳). I don't know if there are any Brazilian readers, but congratulations to them too, it was a great game. Ana Cristina is also coming to Fenerbahçe, the team I support, so I'm happy about that. Anyway, I've gone on too long. The translation was done by AI again. Actually, I had other things I wanted to write, but I didn't want the chapter to be too long.
"Sorun değil, gelir geçer.
Ölüm değil, gelir geçer."
"It’s no problem, this too shall pass.
It is not death, it will not last."
taglist: @cookiepersona @anime2006 @lievalley @midnightsunnnnnnn @izukuispunk
