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aurorafreerose · 4 years

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Don’t Be Late- Ch 2

Summary- Bakugo and Uraraka go on a walk, but not before Ochaco gets flustered.

Notes- Baku is so clueless while this cinnamon roll over here is an becoming an idiot in love aaaahhh also mild inappropriate-ness(?) but not real smut

Writer’s note- I wrote this while listening to Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys, Daddy Issues by the Neighborhood, and I Can’t Handle Change by R.O.A.R. Feel free to join in!

Read on a03!

Ochaco, upon examining herself, found herself wearing a large blue gingham skirt with two layers of fluffy material, ruffles along the edges, a tightly drawn patterned corset, a blue bonnet tied to her head with a silk ribbon, and heavy white stockings leading to a pair of blue high-heeled, lace-up boots. She was holding a large white cane which had a small bell affixed to it, and it rang whenever she wasn't idle.

She was standing in a shockingly green field, and the sun's rays bounced off of her cheeks as she spotted something in the distance.

It was a herd of sheep, except they all had a pair of familiar slanted red eyes and wore rowdy blonde fur instead of their trademark white coats. The cluster reminded her of something- no, someone, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. They all growled at her when they saw her approaching, but gradually let down their guard, and soon, she was able to mingle about them with ease. Before she knew it, Uraraka was tending to a flock of slowly-growing-content Baku-sheep, and actually enjoying herself in the task.

Unfortunately, a soft beeping noise began to disrupt the comfortable routine she'd settled into. She looked around the field for the source of the noise ruining her satisfaction, but it only grew louder and louder, before-

Ochaco's eyes burst open. She was no longer in a field, but laying horizontally across her bed. The sight of a still-beeping alarm clock, the source of the annoying noise that haunted her dreams, greeted her dreary eyes. Her right hand, almost as if it was on cue, slammed the button off. Adjusting to the jarring morning daylight that was peeking through the shutters, Ochaco rubbed her eyelids and leaned forward to check the time.

No way.

10:30??

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no...

Starting to panic, she slipped off the edge, landing uncomfortably in the small gap between her bed and her drawer. Ochaco violently grabbed the alarm clock to examine its contents, hoping what she read was merely an extension of the absurdity clouding her dreams. She grasped the clock, drawing it closer to her eyes in order to confirm what she really hoped, for her own sake, wasn't true.

The universe had no such luck for her in store. The clock still read half-past-ten, and Ochaco was now filled with dread. Realizing her brain had tuned out the clock's irritating beeping noises in her jumbled hurry, she pressed one finger to the button and subsequently jumped out of her bed, imagining obscenities she wouldn't be caught dead saying out loud.

She hurried over to her bathroom and brushed her teeth hurriedly while simultaneously splashing water on her face. Then, Ochaco pulled on an outfit not too dissimilar from the one her new sparring partner had worn yesterday; with cerulean athletic shorts that were slightly too tight and a cropped black tank top made out of a light, breathable fabric, you could almost say they were coordinated. In the rush to conserve time, Ochaco didn't realize this in the moment, but she would regret the choice her subconscious had made on her behalf soon enough.

Grabbing a small black duffel bag that she thankfully had the foresight to pack the previous night, the frantic girl stuffed her feet into a pair of old, worn-out sneakers and threw on a cozy gray sweatshirt. She rushed out of her room, slamming the door with a loud shut behind her. Running as fast as she could down the halls of the girls' dorm, she glanced at her watch.

It was already 10:42?

After what seemed like an eternity, she threw herself down the stairs, stopped halfway to catch her breath, and finally entered the common room.

She didn't particularly want to examine her surroundings, but her eyes seemed to make the trip upwards on their own.

They landed upon a boy with unkempt fluffy blonde hair, about 6'2, leaning with one arm resting on a quartz pillar. He, too, was wearing a tank top, and it was accenting his tantalizing body nicely. Her eyes darted to his abs, which were not concealed at all but instead closely hugging the extremely thin, yet tight, fabric of his top. She could see his rock-hard, roughly carved muscle, the product of lots of intense work. His well-defined arm muscles were plainly visible; his biceps were all but perfectly sculpted, but what really caught her eye were the sharp, angular veins that bulged prominently down his arms. She followed their trail all the way down to his hands, where his veins were most noticeable; they accented his hands nicely, complimenting his long, slender fingers, all of which were about 4.5 inches (she guessed). They were scarred all over, no doubt due to previous fights. His right hand's ring finger and forefinger both sported bare silver bands, while his left's middle finger wore a plain gold one.

It was just a few seconds, but she realized her eyes were greedily drinking in his appearance only when a rough, loud voice snapped her out of her hypnotic trance.

"Oi, what the fuck are you just standing there for?"

Bakugo was staring back at her with a look of disgust, which she assumed was in response to the fact that she had stood at the bottom of the stairs, just looking at him, for a good number of seconds. Heat rushed to her face, and her body turned slightly inwards as she stared at her shoes, too embarrassed to make eye contact with him.

"Anyways," he continued angrily, not appearing to grasp the implications of what had just happened. "You're late. What the fuck did I tell you yesterday? And don't think you can get away with this easily, Angel Face. I woke up on time just to meet you here, and you pull this shit?"

Ochaco's face remained heavily flushed. She still couldn't bring herself to speak to him, mainly because her brain was in overload trying to decipher the events of thirty seconds ago.

"Yes," she wanted to yell back at him, "why was I just standing there? I'm not that kind of person! I'm not like... like Mineta or anything!" she thought, going from bashful to downright indignant. "

Wait, he didn't notice that, so who am I arguing with? I know that I'm not! And it's not like there's anything really special about you, Bakugo, anyway," she thought resentfully.

"I only asked you because you were the one who suggested it in the first place! Bakugo's rude, cocky, disrespectful, inconsiderate, not to mention always angry for no good reason, always! He was kind of like...an angry little Pomeranian."

The tiniest of smiles harbored Ochaco's lips as she raised her face to meet Bakugo's irritated gaze. The thought of him as a tiny puppy who was rapidly barking at everyone had momentarily distracted her from her sentiments. This wasn't lost on him, however.

"Fuck are you smiling at, cheeks?"

"Oh, nothing." She realized that Bakugo wasn't actually angry with her; he was just mildly annoyed. He was just expressing any emotion that verged on the edge of anger with a lot of yelling. Their height difference was even more apparent as Bakugo happened to lay eyes upon a pair of large, doe-like eyes that were now looking up at him. His expression softened momentarily, his eyebrows raising upwards and his mouth dropping slightly open. He drew his face back into its usual trappings of anger, but for some strange reason, he seemed like his temper was evening out.

When he spoke to her, his voice was softer than it was only a few minutes previously. It had taken on an oddly calmer quality, which it suited the brash tones of his voice nicely; he still sounded angry, but just in a different font.

"It doesn't matter anyways," he said in a mollified kind of way, avoiding looking at her as he turned his head to glance in the opposite direction. He looked down at his steel-colored watch. "Damn it, 10:50 already? Let's go, Uraraka."

She nodded silently, not knowing why she didn't feel nearly as angry anymore.

They walked alongside each other on the stone path to the training rooms. For the first few minutes, they were silent. Bakugo firmly kept his hands in his pockets, his fingers jutting out at the sides from the awkward angle he'd inserted them in. He stared straight ahead, a weird mixture of concentration and grit on his face. Ochaco, on the other hand, had noticed his habit of sticking his fingers in his pockets. Then, she blushed, remembering how shamelessly she had admired the very same fingers earlier, and gotten both angry with and ashamed of her own mind. Soon, she was too subdued by her own confused head to even bother with initiating a conversation.

Bakugo, without taking his eyes off of the ground, asked Ochaco: "You figured out I wrote to you, didn't you?"

Ochaco, for the second time that day, snapped out of her self-imposed crisis. "W-what?"she replied, bemused.

"Don't fuck around, cheeks," he said, irritation creeping into his tone. "You figured out that I was the one who assigned to write to you in class?"

"Well," she responded, a smile beginning to appear on her face, her eyes crinkled and one hand touching her neck. "You're the only person I know who calls me Angel Face..."

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jadewing-realms · 5 years

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home is an empty house

Fandom: My Hero Academia Words: 5254 Pairing: Kacchako [Read on AO3]

I wrote this back in, like... September. But as it is now the actual Christmas season, it seemed appropriate to upload it here. Have some fluffy Kacchako Christmas goodness!

[Sent; 7:32PM, Yesterday] katsuki♥ wish i could be there.

Clenching the phone tightly in her hands, Uraraka Ochako sighs onto the screen, fogging it.

So does she. In fact, she’s been wishing that ever since he told her last week that he wouldn’t be able to do any traveling over the holidays.

Yet here they are. Their first Christmas together, and he’s stuck halfway across the world, on a campus in New York. Figures.

Sometimes, she hates hero work. Sure, she’s decked out in her winter Hero uniform and dutifully patrolling the streets because crime apparently doesn’t take holidays (or, mostly dutifully; she just can’t help checking for new messages from him). But that doesn’t stop her from being the least bit bitter against her line of work. With its stupid schedule and stupid pressures and stupid ranking system… and its stupid sense of gratification and stupid fat paychecks.

It’s the industry’s fault he’s in New York. He wants to be the best there is. It’s also the industry’s fault she’s still here in Japan. She has a job now, as a sidekick, at a decent agency and people know her name.

So they keep their priorities in check and every evening, she returns home alone, to an empty apartment drowning in silence. And in the privacy of their message threads, they wish.

It’s almost childish, isn’t it?

Back when she was a kid, Ochako remembers sitting at her window every night, clasping her hands tightly under her chin, and sending up her day’s wishes to her favorite star in the sky. She never asked for much; her family had never been well-off, but she was content. She appreciated what she had. But to this day, there are a handful of things she recalls wishing for with stark clarity.

The earliest memory of her wishes that she has is one in which she asked the heavens for a bike. Big gifts were expensive gifts, and yet she had so desperately wanted to be able to ride around like she saw the older boys at school doing. She’d been enthralled by their speed, the wind throwing their caps and hoods off their heads and whipping their hair back. So she’d knelt at her window and prayed her request to the brightest star up there, because she’d read in a book somewhere that wishes upon stars might come true. Looking back, she’s not even sure how old she was then…

There was another time that she wished for a puppy, back before she understood just how much it costs to have a pet.

Pretty soon though, she started wishing for work for her parents. And now that she thinks about it, it was around the same time she started harboring the dream of making money as a Hero in order to support them. After that, trivial things like bikes and puppies faded into the wind and she hasn’t really thought of them since.

It’s odd, thinking of those wishes now…

She looks up. Her eyes meet crystal blue, not a single cloud spotting the December sky. The stars won’t be out for several hours yet. The forecast even made mention of snow tonight, so the chances she’ll get to test whether or not she can find her Star again are fairly low. Still. The stars are still out there, right?

She clutches her phone tightly in her hands, closes her eyes, and hopes they hear her.

I wish Katsuki was here.

“Ochako—is something wrong, ribbit?”

“Ah—no! Sorry! I’m coming!”

She puts her phone away in its holster on her belt and sprints to catch up to Tsuyu.

Do the stars remember all the wishes?

Is the night sky just like a giant invisible net that drags the cosmos like the cops drag a river when looking for a body?

Ochako pauses with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, startled by the morbid nature of that thought. She pictures wishes gathering against the stars like a bunch of corpses and then scrunches her face, hurrying to shake the image away. That’s definitely not the direction she’d meant to take that train of thought…

Katsuki’s morbid sense of humor is rubbing off on her. The thought both pleases and disturbs her.

Just thinking his name has her reaching for her phone. He’s been so quiet the last few days… He said last week that he was planning on using the holiday break for cram work. And when he crams, he crams. He never has to, but he does. His scores could be flawless (as they usually are) but he’ll study like he’s about to fail. Not that he ever lets his classmates see that. Back in UA, heaven forbid anyone see him as anything other than perfectly confident in his skill. Time and experience has changed a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.

She smiles to herself as she pulls up the well-loved message thread. He’s always hated being vulnerable…

'...wish i could be there.' His last message reminds her that he’s capable. Capable of letting down the fortress from around his soul and laying it bare—for her and her alone to see. She’s developed a skill for cutting him to the quick anyway, so those walls are kind of pointless. Still. He lets her see what he’d call the weakest parts of him.

She calls them sweet, but he never believes her.

The last message displayed in the thread is her response from last night: three hearts, and the words ‘same here.’

Her thumb darts over the keys, and she takes another sip of coffee before she hits send.

[Sent; 12:14PM, Today] You The books arent eating you alive, i hope

She smiles to herself, wondering what he’ll shoot back and more importantly, how long it’ll take him to respond…

“I’m pretty sure you keep forgetting I’m here. Ribbit.”

Ochako snaps her head up, nearly jumping in her seat before her brain reminds her that she hasn’t been alone all day. Tsuyu, drinking her own cup of tea in the seat across from here, eyes her with a mostly blank face but thinly-veiled amusement in her eyes. Ochako’s mouth gapes in search of words, appropriate words, maybe words that could excuse how horribly she’s been zoning out today. But at last, she must concede that there really aren’t any. And instead, she just slumps against the table in defeat.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” she drawls with a healthy helping of self-depreciation. “I just… it’s Christmas Eve and there are so many other things I’d rather be doing tonight. And nothing’s even happened today! It’s so boring!”

For a moment, Tsuyu just smiles and sips her tea. Then, taking her time, she lowers the cup but keeps it firm between her mittens. “Have you heard from Bakugou today?”

Ochako blinks. A part of her is impressed. The other part just wants to sink into the floor. Is she really that obvious?

Then again, Asui Tsuyu is the sharpest person Ochako knows. So she probably would’ve noticed anyway.

“No, I just messaged him…” Ochako presses her cheek against the cold diner table. She glances at her phone screen—still no response. He hasn’t even seen the message yet. Then she notes they have 15 minutes of lunch break left. “He seems busy lately.”

“Anything interesting?” Tsu prompts.

Ochako shakes her head, wobbling the table. “Nah. Just… the same old stuff. He keeps staying up too late to study though.”

“He’s always been pretty determined in whatever he set his mind to. That includes this long-distance thing, Ochako. He’ll text when he can, I’m sure, ribbit.”

“Yeah…” She absorbs the words, letting them sooth her—that is until she stops and thinks about exactly what was said. Then she sits up and holds a hand out with a frantic wave. “OH, no, no, I’m not… It’s not that big a deal! I’m not thinking… I just miss him, is all…” She admits this with a hang of her head, huddling around her coffee cup like it can save her from sounding like some desperate, lonely girlfriend. “It just… seems really quiet without him around. Him and Deku! Both of them, things seemed… I dunno. Livelier, before they left.”

And Deku’s coming home for Christmas, from what she’s heard. So why can’t he…?

Tsu chortles. “We were in high school before they left, ribbit. That’s always crazy.”

“I guess…” Ochako giggles a little as well before the sound falls flat. She sinks into thought, thoughts she’s not sure she likes, and twiddles her fingers against her coffee.

Back in UA, she thought she knew what she wanted. Finally, after a childhood full of questions, she’d had an answer. A way forward. And then… everything happened. Meeting Deku. The League of Villains. Her fateful match with Katsuki at the sports festival… The one that had pushed her to grow stronger, more confident in herself and what she can do... kinda like him.

He was—is—so loud. Brash and without reservation, feral in a way that makes him seem powerful and dangerous. Uncontrollable. And yet… she’d noticed a vulnerability. A weakness that he had to be all too aware of, but after their match, she’d found she wasn’t afraid of him like the others anymore… To this day, she can’t begin to pin down why.

But she supposes now, looking back, that it was those moments of her reaching out, treating him like just another person because that’s what he was, that helped her see just how… amazing… he really is. Sure, he still has a foul mouth and a hair-trigger temper given the right context, but he’s grown and he’s allowed her to watch him grow, even if it is at a long distance. She’s been privileged…

She’s grown accustomed to his confident, demanding presence. Enough to miss it.

“I guess I’m still adjusting to the way things are now. It’s… the same, but also really different, you know?”

“Mm-hmm. I understand.”

Back then, Ochako never would’ve even dreamed she’d be in a long-distance relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. No way in heck. Back in those days, Deku had filled her life with sparkling admiration and dreams of maybe one day…

She shakes those thoughts away too. Now’s definitely not the time for that.

So instead, she perks up and stuffs her phone away in its holster, and shoots Tsu a beaming smile—hoping maybe she can diffuse the weird cloud that’s trying to settle over her like the storm front blowing in outside. “Hey! Do you have plans tonight? We could do something! Maybe we could rent a movie, make some snacks? That could be fun.”

Tsu’s smile falls a little and she tilts her head. “Oh, sorry. It’s Christmas Eve, remember? I’m gonna spend the evening with my family.”

Oh, right, duh! Stupid Ochako, you space-brain… She palms herself in the forehead. “Right! Man, I don’t know where my head is today; I’m sorry, Tsu…”

The other woman’s mouth tilts back up at the corners. “Across the Pacific, I think.”

A flush heats Ochako’s face, and suddenly, she feels the great need to get back to work. She hops out of her seat. “I’ll finish this swig and then we can get back on the road! Those criminals aren’t gonna stop themselves!”

A blanket of clouds makes the sunset run short and soon, it’s dark, and there are no stars. Ochako sighs again—for the umpteenth time in the past hour—but at least her shift is over and she can go home. Ryukyu practically forced everyone to leave early, despite lingering behind herself. It had all but ended in a war between ‘go home early, you’ve earned it’ and ‘no, we’re staying as long as you do’, until Ryukyu had to admit that her reasons for staying behind were holiday-related.

Ochako, along with everyone else, had relented after that. Ryukyu always left great little surprises for them to find later.

However, that now meant heading home. Alone. In the dark. To an empty apartment.

Ochako sighs again.

Her phone vibrates. She practically rips it out of its holster. She unlocks it and pulls up the message thread as fast as she ever has. Her heart skips when she realizes she’s missed three messages.

[Sent; 12:45PM, Today] katsuki♥ sorry. was out late. still alive.

[Sent; 12:46PM, Today] katsuki♥ the books’ll hafta try harder than that

[Sent; 12:50PM, Today] katsuki♥ Stop worrying about me

That must’ve been when she and Tsu found that lost kid right after lunch. A little boy had gotten separated from his mother in a little shopping district and they’d found him quite distraught. It hadn’t lasted long; they’d found his mother searching the shops for him just around the corner. But it would’ve been long enough to keep her from noticing her phone…

Now, those messages she missed are capped with one that’s much more recent.

[Sent; 9:02PM, Today] katsuki♥ you doing okay?

Despite herself, a smile creeps onto her face. She’s usually the one to keep a conversation going, so her silence must’ve been a little off-putting. She starts typing.

[Sent; 9:06PM, Today] You yes! sorry, gotta love phone tag, I’ve been patrolling with Tsu.

The ellipse appears almost immediately, and her heart leaps. He’s actually on his phone this time, right now! She holds the screen closer.

[Sent; 9:06PM, Today] katsuki♥ Isn’t it like. 9pm there?

She pauses to do a little mental math. Right, it’s eight in the morning on his end… Time is weird.

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] You Yeah, it’s christmas eve, I know. No rest for the wicked I guess

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] katsuki♥ wicked? you?

[Sent; 9:07PM, Today] You when I wanna be ;)

[Sent; 9:08PM, Today] katsuki♥ mrawr. down kitty

She giggles to herself, standing there on the street corner like a dork. She’s pretty sure she’s had the chance to go twice now, but she’s okay being a little preoccupied. Her empty apartment isn’t going anywhere. For now, she just wants to hold the phone close and soak as much of him through it as she can. Like maybe, if she does that and wishes hard enough to the stars hidden behind the clouds, those stars could defy the laws of reality and Katsuki could be here, talking to her face and not through a bunch of pixels on a screen.

[Sent; 9:10PM, Today] katsuki♥ thinking about something?

[Sent; 9:10PM, Today] You maybe. I just

She’s about to finish the thought in the next message when a ruckus raises down the block—someone shouting, and a jarring crash of something metal and glass. Her attention is snatched away from the phone, which goes back into its case, thought unfinished.

I miss you.

By the time she drags her feet up to her apartment door, it’s 10:30PM and she just wants to have some ramen and then go to bed. The audacity of some villains… Who tries to rob a toy store on Christmas Eve? Some moron calling himself Sim the serial thief, apparently.

And it’s not Katsuki rubbing off on her; ‘moron’ is an apt description of the guy, she thinks. After all, if you attempt to rob a string of stores in a busy district just to prove you can get away with it, assimilating the items into your body as you go? You’re pretty much a moron.

Though, he was a pain in the neck to catch, the stupid jerk…

What’s worse is that, once the villain was in police custody, Ochako remembered she needed to finish her message to Katsuki, only to find her phone crunched, and crunched good. She hasn’t panicked like that in a long while. Now that she’s had time to think about it, it must’ve happened when Sim chucked a full-size widescreen TV at her…

Now she has to worry about getting a new one. A phone, not a TV. She might have to dig into her travel savings… which she really doesn’t want to think about. It’s just depressing.

She fishes her key from under her mat and unlocks the door to her place, not looking forward to stepping inside any more than she was earlier. She almost feels bad. Back when she saved up enough to afford to start renting a decent place like this, she’d been over the moon. Poor apartment hasn’t done anything wrong, per se, it’s just… painfully empty. Hollowed out. Silent.

Heat pricks the back of her eyes, so she decides she better stop that train of thought before it wrecks. Switching her mind to other things, she thinks she really ought to take a shower, but the idea of doing anything other than Eat and Sleep just makes her grumble and shake her head. She’ll do it tomorrow. When she feels like it. It’s not like there’s anybody to impress tonight.

Once inside with the door closed, in the dark of her own space, she finally lets the tension drain from her shoulders. Without bothering with the lights just yet, she sags back against the door, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent of home.

Except… there’s something not familiar about it. A strange new smell that wasn’t there this morning… A nice smell. Actually, a strong smell. Cologne, and a hint of something chemical. She cracks her eyes open and takes a good look around her.

Her apartment’s nothing spectacular. Heck, who’s she kidding; it’s tiny and sparsely furnished. Just three rooms—a little hall to her right from which branches the small bedroom and bathroom, and then the main living space and kitchenette. Not much to warrant a break-in. Plus, the sliding door to the petite balcony is still closed and intact, and she’s on the third floor anyway. So then…

There’s a breath—an almost-moan, and the shuffle of fabric. Movement in the shadows by the sofa draws her eye, just before the lamp clicks on. It’s not a bright lamp, but the sudden light to her eyes, which had been adjusting to complete darkness, is enough to blind her just for a beat.

“You’re late,” he says.

For a split second, she convinces herself she’s hearing things. Projecting today’s mood on whoever this is that’s decided she’d be a good person to rob tonight. But in the same second, she’s looking at the sofa and thanks to the lamp, she can actually see who’s there and her throat’s suddenly constricting.

Bakugou Katsuki looks h***a fine in a maroon coat. And he’s wearing the charcoal-grey scarf and Ka-Boom earrings she got him last year. He’s looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes like he just woke up and rubbing his knuckles against one and g** he’s a sight for sore eyes. He rocks to his feet from where he’s sitting on the low-resting sofa and strides across the apartment like he owns it, until he’s standing right in front of her, close in the dim light. She can see dark shadows under his eyes, but the eyes themselves glint with something like snark.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, blinking and glancing around absently, still looking very much like he just woke up. Had he been just… napping on the couch?

The text messages… had he been…?

She suddenly remembers to breathe. She gulps in air, yanks off her glove and swats him in the arm with it. The fact that he actually flinches, startled, is a testament to his jet lag. She does her best to glare up at him instead of launching into his arms like she wants to so badly.

“A**hole!!” she snaps, and points a rigid index finger between his eyes, which are a bit wider now. More awake. Good. “You lied to me!”

For a second, he just stares at her, meeting her eyes without even a smidgen of remorse. He blinks. Her nerve wavers. But she refuses to give first.

Then he smiles—not his toothy, arrogant smile that makes most people wanna punch him in the mouth, but an actual expression of fondness, familiar only to her and so warm it makes her heart melt and her knees weak. And d*** it if she doesn’t realize right then just how much she missed his stupid face.

“Surprise.” He lifts a hand to clasp it over hers, where it’s still hovering in the air between them, accusatory finger still extended. He tilts his head and makes a show of puckering his lips, pressing a comically chaste kiss to the pad on the tip of her outstretched finger. “Don’t cuss me out when I came all this way to spend Christmas with you, Pink Cheeks.”

Chaste or no, the kiss makes her shiver and she knows she’s close to losing and she hates that but also loves it because at this point, she’s just glad he’s here. With her, in her apartment. The apartment she had been so prepared to find empty.

Lip quivering a little, she allows her frustration to escape in one last defiant ‘hrrmmgh’ before she dives into his chest and secures her arms tightly around his sturdy middle. She soaks in his scent—a new cologne, and that underlying chemical hint of fireworks, smoky and mmm, has she missed that—and his warmth and the way that after a few seconds of hesitation, his arms come to rest tentatively around her shoulders, cocooning her.

“Hey,” he grumbles, sounding caught between perturbed and amused, “pull yourself together. I’m not f***ing dead.”

“Shut your stupid face,” she whines into his coat, holding him tighter. She can hear his heartbeat getting a little faster. “I just… I missed you, you stupid… stupid, stupid… jerk…”

“Don’t call me stupid, stupid! Give me a little credit. I wasn’t about to let my best girl spend Christmas alone.”

It’s enough. She breaks into a smile, her eyes stinging, and she rocks him back and forth, lost in utter ecstasy. It’s weird and childish and he hasn’t really had enough experience with her brand of physical affection yet to be used to it, but he has to adjust some time. Especially since as far as she’s concerned, he’s gonna be stuck with her for as long as she has any choice in the matter.

Her smile only widens when she feels him rest his cheek on top of her head.

Yes. This… this is what she wished for.

Then he sniffs and murmurs into her hair. “You stink. You need a shower.”

Any other day, that would’ve ruined the mood. But not today. She’s not about to let it. So she just keeps smiling and explains very briefly, still speaking into his coat collar. “Mmph, shh. Villain. Had to chase ‘im.”

Slowly, he begins attempting to disentangle her from him. “Well, go take a quick shower and I’ll reheat dinner.”

When he manages to put an arm’s length of distance between them again, holding her out with his hands on her shoulders, she’s staring up into his face with an expression of pure, astonished joy. She’s really not sure how to express how touched she is at this point, so she settles for exaggerating her lower lip and letting a tear escape, which honestly seems to unnerve him more than anything.

To his credit, he just cups her face with one hand and brushes the tear away, while she squeaks out a wobbly “You made dinner??”

Now he smirks, and this time it is the toothy, arrogant one. He’s lucky she can’t find it in her to feel like punching him right now. “F*** yeah, I made dinner. Went all out too, so you better clean up quick.”

She hooks her hands on his neck and brings him in for what’s supposed to be quick, undignified peck on his lips, but when all the tension leaves his body—tension she hadn’t even realized was there—in one big whoosh of breath across her mouth, she figures she might as well stay there a while. Everything else can wait. She’s going to enjoy this to its fullest, and the best way to do that is to take a note from her boyfriend’s book and do whatever the f*** she wants.

The kiss starts slow, which once she thinks about it isn’t so surprising given they’ve only actually kissed like three times, and two of them were quick goodbyes. Whoops. She feels the uncertainty in his lips, the hesitation in the way his hands can’t seem to find a place to rest along her back, and she thinks his clumsy affection is adorable.

She presses closer, as close as she can get, coiling one arm over his shoulder and the other combing her fingers into his coarse hair. He relaxes gradually, finding an easy resting place for his hands and an appropriate angle to tilt his head, giving a little to her experience and the way she guides each kiss from quaint to something a little bolder and infinitely more comfortable. Their lips catch and then part, tongues tripping over each other, and it’s certainly not the most graceful, Hollywood-worthy make-out in the world, but she doesn’t mind and she likes to think he doesn’t either, despite his pride. It’s all she can do to keep from exploding with pure, unadulterated happiness. She’s addicted to his taste.

The cloud of loneliness that’s been hounding her all day—no, all week—has all but retreated with its tail between its legs, dissipating in the face of his presence.

It’s there, while lip-locked with the boy—the man she thinks maybe she’s got a bug for, that her mind brings forth an intriguing revelation. An answer to a question she hasn’t even asked herself, the reason why these days she’s dreaded coming back to this empty apartment every night.

Bakugou Katsuki feels like home now. The spirit that once dwelled in these four walls must’ve taken up residence inside him while she wasn’t looking, so that now, when he leaves, he takes it with him.

And strangely enough, she can’t be sad about it.

When her back thumps against the front door and Katsuki releases a little growl that makes all of her hair stand on end, the little rational part of her brain deems this as Far Enough, and with great effort and a soft, breathless exhale, she pulls away. He hovers, like maybe his brain is taking a few extra seconds to process everything, the tip of his nose and his hot breath feathering across her cheek.

“D***…” is as intelligent a response as it seems he’s currently capable of. He huffs against her face—something like a stunned guffaw and a harried sigh rolled into one. “Just go take your f***ing shower.”

She giggles again, perhaps with a bit more mischief than she should have because his grip on her hips tightens a little. Moving her own hands over his, fingertips taking in tough, calloused skin while also taking care not to touch him with all five, she begins the arduous task of extracting him from her person.

“I will, soon as you let go,” she whispers in reply before, unable to resist, she presses one last light kiss on his nose.

Or at least, she’d intended it to be the last. He has his own ideas, chasing her mouth with his to get in a few more, which is oddly gratifying. The knowledge that she can make him as weak as he makes her… it’s almost empowering. That’s when she figures screw it, she might as well mess with him. Because as much as this subdued, half-asleep version of him does interesting things to the connection between her heart and her stomach, she can’t deny that she’d like to hear the sound of home just a little before he disappears off to wherever he’s staying.

Even if the neighbors will probably complain.

Lowering her last finger, she activates her quirk on him while he’s busy fitting his mouth against hers and, bracing her hands against his admittedly comfortable chest, gives him the lightest of pushes in the opposite direction.

Without mass, his body moves as easily as a helium balloon. The actual last kiss ends with rather rude abruptness that might’ve made Ochako feel a little bit of guilt, if not for the wonderfully familiar outburst that immediately follows.

“D***IT! ARE YOU F***IN' S***TING ME RIGHT NOW, OCHAKO, PUT ME DOWN! THAT WAS A CHEAP MOVE!”

She grins across and slightly up at him, where his momentum has him drifting slowly upward just shy of the small, round kitchen table. Sashaying with self-approval, she strides by just out of his reach, headed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna take my shower. I hope your cooking’s still good enough to blow me away even as leftovers. You know I have high standards for food.”

“LIKE H***, RAMEN BRAIN! YOUR STANDARDS ARE S***! Now let me down and I’ll do more than blow your f***ing mind!!”

It’s only after she locks herself in the bathroom that she releases her Quirk and giggles to herself at the ensuing rattle-and-thud that results from Katsuki’s however-clumsy landing. He lets fly another string of expletives that trail off at the end, like he’s finally reminded himself of the late hour, or perhaps the fact that there are total strangers just on the other side of the walls. She listens further, with her ear pressed against the bathroom door, until she hears the microwave start humming. Then and only then does she take a deep, staying breath, and release it in another sigh—this one heavy with contentment and not a trace of her previous angsting.

Yes. This was just what she needed. Somewhere out there, beyond a layer of clouds that's slowly sending down fluffs of snow, her Star had remembered her wish.

BONUS:

When the screeching guitar rifts of his ringtone jar him to awareness, the first thought to leap to Katsuki’s jet-lagged brain is ‘S*** I’ll wake Ochako up,’ and it’s enough to send him careening off his borrowed pillow. He twists over the sofa’s armrest, snatches his phone off the end table—which is actually a TV tray—and swipes to answer just to shut the thing up. Then he remembers last night, when she said she had to leave early for a morning shift at her agency and he’s welcome to treat the apartment like home in the meantime.

It’s only after this recollection that he recognizes Eijirou’s profile image on the screen and squints. He puts the phone to his ear.

“Mmmwhat’s the deal, Dumb Hair, it’s early.”

“Dude! You get in. last night. and you don’t even come say ‘hi’ to your bro? That’s harsh.”

“I was busy.”

“Busy? Busy how—Wait… where are you?”

“Ochako’s.” And the moment he says it, he spills a quick “f***” in follow-up because he really should’ve just told his best friend to mind his own d*** business.

A brief beat of silence passes before Eijirou friggin’ gasps like some school girl who just became privy to The Biggest Scandal Evar, and his voice comes over the line sounding far too pleased. “Ohhhhhh, I see, well, don’t let me cut in on anything, man.”

“GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER, YOU CREEP!”

“Hey, what happens in your gutter stays in your gutter, bruh, we cool.”

“SHUT UP!”

#kacchako #kacchaco #bakugou x uraraka #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #christmas #fluff #with a side of tsu #and a dash of kirishima

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