every fanfic i write i have to make at least one jab at mineta or else it doesnt feel right

Word Count:5080

Fluff, Romance, Soulmates, Café AU

Summary: Momo Yaoyorozu has finally accomplished her goal of opening her own café. And the location she’s chosen isn’t just good for business—it’s also the ticket to finding her soulmate!

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for the MomoJiro Bang! Please check out the lovely art by my partner @bnha-ramblings, and also a big thanks to my beta @leland-chapman-the-bounty-hunter​! Enjoy!

The scent of brewing chamomile danced on the air, filling Momo’s nose with a honey-sweet smell. It bubbled in the teapot on the rustic stove, which sat between two counters laden with espresso machines, coffee pots, jugs of fruit concentrate chilling in bowls of ice, and countless bags of tea leaves. A foot and a half in front of the cabinets and counters stood a display case, which housed scrumptious-looking muffins, danishes, brownies and blondies, donuts, and various other pastries. A small counter sat beside it with an old-fashioned cash register and a tiny potted money tree. Momo flitted around the various round, tableclothed tables to slightly rearrange the flowers sitting in the colorful glass vases or barely shift the teacups and saucers. After giving the room one last scrutinizing sweep, she walked up to the front glass door to flip the sign hanging in it to “OPEN.” 

The simple act made Momo swell with pride. I’ve done it! I’ve successfully opened my own tea shop and café! She thought triumphantly. Four years of slaving over a business degree, half a year of financial bargaining, and another three months of construction, interior decorating, and asset obtaining had finally led to this moment. She couldn’t help peering out of the door at the sidewalk. Her fingers twiddled with anticipation as she watched the passersby. Would any of them notice her new tea shop? Would any of them be intrigued and stop in? Who would be her first customer? 

After a few seconds of heart-pounding suspense, Momo realized that her potential customers may be put off by a sweaty, wide-eyed woman standing at the door breathing heavily onto the glass. She rubbed away the condensation with the hem of her apron before hurrying back to the counter. She needed to find something to occupy her time or she would go crazy from the expectation! However, she had been at the store for three hours preparing, so it was terribly hard to find anything to do now. She just stared hopelessly at the teapot on the stove, counting the seconds until it began to whistle with the collecting steam. 

When she finally pulled the chamomile tea off the stove, she was at a complete loss of what to do. 

Music. Music would help calm my nerves, she decided. She walked across the room to the old-fashioned radio sitting on a shelf on the wall. All of the outfittings in Momo’s tea shop had a rustic charm to contribute to the English Victorian vibe that she was going for—plus, she just loved the character of antiques! She fiddled with the dial, surfing through the static for a channel that would suit the atmosphere of her tea shop. She finally landed on a classical music channel, and sweet tones of piano keys began to mingle in the air with the fresh scent of the chamomile. 

It seemed that Momo had caught the tail end of a piece; by the time she walked back to her counter to pour herself a cup of chamomile, the radio host’s voice has replaced the calming piano music. 

“Hello, listeners. I hope we are having a pleasant morning,” the host’s voice was soft and rich like the smoothest coffee; it immediately lulled Momo into a sleepy sense of contentment, prompting her to lean back against the counter and sip at her hot tea with a smile. “The next song comes to us from the most recent classical sensation, contemporary pianist Hitoshi Shinso. In a recent interview, he explained how his soulmate song inspired all the work on his debut album. He wanted to celebrate the love for his soulmate, and each song in the album chronicles their journey together…” 

The radio host’s comments faded into the background as Momo drifted further into a placated state of daydreaming. She’d always adored the concept of the soulmate song. It was so inherently romantic! A song you were born knowing. A song that you only shared with one other person in the whole world. A unique tune that you could use to communicate with someone on such an intimate, personal level. Just thinking about it made butterflies take flight in Momo’s stomach and pleasurable tingles begin to shoot up and down her nerves. 

Momo especially loved her soulmate song. She supposed everyone thought their soulmate song was extra-special, but Momo couldn’t help but just be enamored by hers. It was a harmonious blend of classical notes and jazzy tunes that came together to make a soothing yet stimulating melody. When Momo closed her eyes and let it flow forth to fill her mind, body, and soul with its mellifluence, she couldn’t help but imagine the kind of person her soulmate must be. Who did those hints of serious, deep tones amongst her sweet, high notes represent? How did it align with their personality? Wondering always filled Momo with a sense of excitement about the day that she would finally discover the truth. 

Just as Momo was beginning to lose herself in her soulmate song, she was jolted back to reality by the loud chime of the bell attached to the top of her door. 

“O-oh! Welcome,” she cried. As she jumped away from the counter, she nearly dropped the mug of chamomile she was still holding in her hands. She squeaked as the liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling over her hands and splashing down on the floor. 

“Pl-please excuse me!” she flushed in embarrassment, scrambling around behind the counter in search of a dishrag. When she found one, she hastily wiped off the mug and set it down, and then rushed up to the cash register while still wiping the tea from her hands. “Sorry about that! How can I help yo—Oh! Ochako!” 

“Hi, Momo!” her friend chirped pleasantly. “I rushed over here as soon as I saw that you were open! Am I your first customer?” 

“Yes, actually, you are!” Momo laughed. Ochako squealed and did a little happy dance, which made Momo laugh more. 

“It looks so cute!” Ochako gushed, stepping to the side to hungrily eye the many sweets sitting in the display counter. “And everything looks so delicious! It’s so amazing! You’ve been working on this for so long. It’s hard to believe that the day has finally come.” 

“I know!” Momo said, smiling while resting her cheek into her hand. “I almost expect to wake up in my bed, it all having been one long dream…” 

“Well, this is no dream, sister!” Ochako said and even lightly pinched Momo’s upper arm. She sprang away with a squeal, swatting at Ochako’s hand. She tried to look stern, but the laugh bubbling from her lips ruined it. Ochako just playfully wiggled her eyebrows before leaning down to hungrily inspect the sweet wares Momo had arranged in the display. “Honestly, it feels like I’m the one dreaming, now! All of these treats look so amazing… It’s like Heaven…”

“You can have whichever one you like. My treat,” Momo offered. 

“No way!” Ochako objected, shooting straight up to poutily frown at her. “I’m your first customer, and that means I’m gonna pay! No ifs, ands, or buts about it… buuuuuuut I won’t refuse a little something extra.” Her firm tone faded into a dreamy drawl as her eyes drifted back to the case, particularly the ichigo daifuku tantalizing her from the top shelf. Momo couldn’t help but laugh; of course Ochako’s weakness to mochi was coming into play, and she had always been partial to the spring-exclusive treat. 

“I’ll throw in some of the ichigo daifuku in for free,” she assured Ochako, who pumped her first with a quiet but triumphant “yes!” 

While Ochako struggled to decide which of the treats she wanted to purchase, Momo opened the back of the case to pull out the platter of mochi treats. She picked one up and carefully wrapped it in cute pink wax paper, then set it into a white pastry box. The lid was emblazoned with her shop name, cursive writing in shiny, eye-catching gold. Ochako cooed delightedly at it when she caught sight of it. 

“Man, Momo, you sure thought of everything,” she praised. “Your shop is going to take off in no time!” 

“I sure hope so,” Momo sighed in response. 

Shehad devoted much time and energy into her preparations, exploring every avenue and having contingencies for her contingencies, but the threat of failure always loomed like an anvil over her head. What if her shop wasn’t a hit? She’d been open for fifteen minutes now, and her best friend was the only one who’d stopped in. Was her business doomed to fail? Oh, dear, what was she going to do—

“Snap out of it!” Ochako barked and snapped her fingers in front of Momo’s face. Momo’s eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to reign her dizzied mind back in. When she looked blearily at her best friend, she had her arms crossed and her mouth pulled into a frown. 

“You’ve been open for fifteen minutes and you’re already doubting yourself, aren’t you?” 

“No…” Momo mumbled. It definitely didn’t sound convincing, and she averted her gaze as heat rushed to her cheeks. Ochako heaved a sigh, then reached out to pluck half of the ichigo daifuku from the box. 

“Listen, Momo, you’ll take off in no time,” she said, then took a bite of the sweet, chewy mochi. “I mean—oh my God, Momo, this is sogood!” 

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her blissful cry, but honestly, Momo would much rather hear that than whatever lecture she was about to get. Her eyes lit up in delight as Ochako began to chomp away at the mochi, stuffing the bits into her cheeks instead of swallowing so she could savor every little bit. 

“Really? You think it’s good?” 

“It’samazing! It’s the best I’ve ever had! I really have died and gone to Heaven…” 

Momo gave Ochako another bit of the mochi treat on the house, while Ochako bought some strawberry shortcake to try later. Seeing as no one else was in the shop, Momo escorted her to the door, opening it for her as they continued to chat about Momo’s aspirations. She was right in the middle of bidding Ochako farewell when the words jammed in her throat. 

“What? What is it?” Ochako asked around the strawberry currently clamped between her teeth. Momo ignored her, looking around wildly. 

Where is it? Where is it coming from? She thought, eyes wide as she looked around in a frenzy. Ochako continued to bleat “What, what?” until Momo frantically wheezed, “My soulmate song.” 

It floated on the warm spring air, light and airy like bubbles. It was unmistakable. It resonated in Momo’s soul. That cappuccino blend of jazz and sweet notes that she had known since before she could recognize what music even was. She could recognize it even though it was being played on an acoustic guitar, the deep notes thrumming in the air. Yet the street was empty aside from a few curious onlookers—no street performers, no radios, not even someone listening to a video on their phone. The song seemed to bounce off the brick walls of the buildings, the sound waves colliding in a confusing but beautiful mass of symphony. Momo could only spin in circles on the sidewalk while she tried fruitlessly to pin down the direction that the song was coming from. 

When it stopped, Momo’s heart shattered. 

“Momo! Momo, hey!” Ochako cried as tears flooded Momo’s eyes. She really wasn’t sure why. 

Her soul was weeping at the failed opportunity, wailing deep in her chest. It made everything go tight, so much so that she had to squat down and focus on catching her breath. Ochako soothingly rubbed her back, and though sympathetic words left her friend’s lips, she couldn’t hear them for the white noise rushing in her ears. 

There was no mistake. That was definitely her soulmate song. But where could it had come from? She looked up and down the street, and though the landscape was blurred slightly by her tears, there was nothing, no clues to the identity of her soulmate or the source of the music. 

“I heard it… I heard it, Ochako…” she said hoarsely. It felt like she’d spent the last ten minutes screaming, the tissue of her throat raw and scratchy and sore. She looked tearily up at her, then whispered, “What if I never hear it again? What if I missed my chance?” 

Momo didn’t like to be overly emotional, and she never would have expected that she would have reacted so strongly to this situation. But it literally felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. She groaned, pawing over her chest while half-expecting to really find a bleeding gash. The strums of the guitar strings still rang hollowly in her ears. Would the ghost of this moment be the only taste of her soulmate that she would ever get? The prospect agonized her, pulling a whine from her trembling lips. 

“Hey, Momo, snap out of it! It’s just first encounter syndrome.” 

Ochako’s voice finally tore Momo out of her emotional turmoil. As she blinked, sending the tears spilling down her ruddy cheeks, she felt like the anxiety swirling inside of her rushed out through her feet. Ochako patted her cheek tenderly as she stood over her, eyebrows knitted in concern. 

“First… encounter syndrome?” Momo rasped. Drink, I need a drink…

“Yeah. Sometimes, when people first encounter or get hints of their soulmate, they have an overwhelming emotional reaction.”

Sensing her thoughts, Ochako helped her to her feet, keeping a gentle hand on her elbow as she guided her inside. Though Momo felt much better, her legs were no better than jelly, making her knees knock together as she fumbled to the nearest table. She practically collapsed in the chair, while Ochako rushed behind the counter to get her a glass of water. Momo’s mouth was like a desert now, and so she could only mouth “thank you” before greedily downing the water. She took it in big gulps, not caring about the water that surged out the corners of her lips and dripped down her chin onto her apron. 

“Guh…” she breathed when she finally pulled the empty glass from her lips. 

“Better?” Ochako smiled weakly as she sat down beside her. Momo nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was dreadfully exhausted, however, and knowing she had to man the shop for the rest of the day made it even worse. “I’ve heard it’s pretty intense. Apparently, Sero had it the first time he met Mina… He broke down bawling right then and there. Couldn’t even say ‘hello’ to her for five whole minutes.” 

“I can imagine,” Momo said wearily, sinking into the chair. She was glad she invested in nice cushioning because it sure felt good embracing her shaky body right now. 

She spent a minute or so running her sweaty palms up and down the skirt of her dress until the last of the tremors ceased. Ochako sat close to her, comfortingly patting her on the shoulder and distracting her with small talk. 

When she finally felt like a person again, Momo cleared her throat and uttered, “So… Do you think I’ll find them? My soulmate?” 

“Of course!” Ochako said with an encouraging nod. She gestured to the window with a big smile. “They’re out there! Just waiting for you!” She leaned forward to pat her firmly on the shoulder. “Just wait. You’ll hear your song again, and next time, you’ll find them. You’ll see!” 

“Yeah,” Momo hummed in agreement. She sank back into the chair with another soft sigh. “Yeah,” she echoed. I just have to wait. I’ll find them next time!

“Kill me. End me. Snuff out my miserable existence,” Momo groaned, punctuating each word with a bang of her forehead against the counter. 

There wasn’t anyone in the café since it was just after closing hours, so her only consolation was the echo of her own head thwack-thwack-thwacking against the wood. Two weeks! It had been two whole weeks! Two weeks of hearing her soulmate song every single day without catching so much as a glimpse of the person playing it. It was driving her insane! 

With another long, drawn-out groan, Momo lifted her head to look up at the clock on the wall. The hour hand was inching toward six. She’d better finish cleaning up so she could head on home before it got too dark. Only to lie awake in my bed agonizing over the fact that my soulmate is just out of reach, she thought, hanging her head with yet another groan. She’d rather lament in bed than stand behind the counter of her shop, though, so she forced herself to wipe the crumbs off the counter and sweep them up. She trudged out the door, and just as she was twisting the key into the lock… 

she heard it. 

“Oh! Oh! Where? Oh!” she sputtered while turning frantically in a circle. Where was it coming from? She had to find it! She couldn’t go another night agonizing over the not knowing anymore! But it seemed like the guitar notes were dancing all around her, mocking her with their perfect symphonic beauty. 

“Oh, please, please!” she cried desperately. Tears sprang to her eyes at the crushing realization that she may once again let her soulmate slip through her fingers. 

“Please…” Her voice cracked as the notes began to fade, and she slowly sank down into a crouch. She hugged her knees with a miserable sniff. Again…?

No! she asserted, jumping back to her feet and firmly gripping the folds of her dress. I won’t miss my chance this time! She hiked up her skirt and stomped down the sidewalk. She didn’t think about what direction she was going in; she just set off in whatever direction seemed natural. A sixth sense, maybe, an invisible string tugging her along…

And it worked, too, because the music was getting louder. 

Oh! Oh, I know this! This is where all the nice restaurants are! Momo realized as the cute little small business district transformed into a streetlamp-lit, hedge-lined swanky locale where men and women in business casual strutted about on nice evening dates or attended business meetings. Her soulmate must be some sort of performer! No wonder she heard them play every night! They must be hired to sing outside of some restaurant to try and entice all the fine people outside to come in and eat. Momo rushed past them all, the heels of her sandals frantically click-click-clicking against the concrete as she followed the sweet notes of the guitar. 

Closer, she had to be getting closer! She could feel the notes strumming in her bones, matching the pound of her heartbeat against her ribcage. She could feel them with every pump of blood through her body, soaking into her cells and making her feel alive. It felt like the wind itself was spiriting her along; it swept along her feet and billowed her dress, making her feel like she was running on the music itself. 

It was approaching the end of the song. Her heart rate jumped, pulsing in her arteries with each frantic pound of her heart. Faster, faster, she had to move faster! She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. She couldn’t get this close only to fail! She cried out as she stumbled, slipping out of one of her sandals, and she paused to look back at it sitting upside-down on the sidewalk. But there was no time, no time—so she just left it, hobbling awkwardly on the higher sole in her desperate attempt to reach her soulmate before the last chord. 

Momo came careening around the corner. Breathless, panting, hair a bit askew, she toddled into the streetlamp on the corner and gripped it tight. She couldn’t go on; her heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest, her lungs were strained to collapsing, and she had a scratch on the bottom of her foot from a raised chip in the concrete. But that was okay. 

Because sitting on the stoop of a fancy sushi bar with her legs crossed and her guitar resting on her lap strumming the last chord of the song was her soulmate.

She was ethereal. The fading sunlight blended with the bright light of the streetlamp, and the mix fell into her deep purple strands of hair to make it shine like threads of woven obsidian. When her black eyes flickered up to meet Momo’s, they gleamed like onyx chips in the lowlight. Momo’s heart did a flip in her chest as their gazes locked. Ethereal was the only word she could think of, and it played like a scratched record in her head. 

“H-hi,” Momo breathed. She was glad she was clutching the light pole because she would have fallen right over otherwise.

“Hi,” the young woman answered with a bashful smile. She gave Momo a cursory once-over, a quick up-and-down flick of her eyes that nonetheless had Momo’s heart back-flipping in her chest. 

“You’re not from around here,” the guitarist remarked, shyness morphing into amused confidence. 

“N-No,” Momo confirmed with a shake of her head. Still clutching the light pole like it was her only link to reality, she took a moment to make sure that her thoughts were in order before uttering, “I own a café not far from here.” 

“I see.” 

The young woman laid her guitar flat on her lap and rested her hands atop its sleek black surface. She made no move to rise or put it in her case, and once more, Momo found her heart fluttering. This girl was giving Momo her full attention! Oh, how nice it was to be noticed. The small act alone nearly made Momo blurt out why she was really there, but she managed to rein in her tongue before it could go flapping. Not everyone subscribed to soulmate culture, and so one had to be tactful when approaching their soulmates. 

“So, you play for this restaurant?” Momo asked. 

Small talk was good. It was a skill she had honed well in the short time of owning her business. Despite her nervousness, Momo didn’t think it would fail her now. However, she had the wherewithal to realize that her posture was still a little strange, gripping desperately to the streetlamp. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she decided to take the risk; slowly, she straightened up, praying her wiggly legs wouldn’t collapse under her. Somehow, she managed to stay standing.

“That’s right. I play for a few hours each night. The waiting times here get really long, so I’m here to keep them from getting too bored out here,” the girl chuckled with a wave at the sidewalk. As it was early evening, the lines were just beginning to form; no doubt, this sidewalk would soon be swarming with people waiting on their reservations. “I usually break about this time, between the lunch and dinner rush.” 

Break… That means if I had waited around a little while, I probably would have found her the first day. Momo wanted to slap herself. Two weeks of agonizing over someone who was far closer than she had ever realized! It was enough to make her want to collapse against the lamppost again. She elected to just stretch her arm out and brace herself against it, make herself seem far more nonchalant than she felt. 

“I’m Kyoka Jiro, by the way.” 

Kyoka Jiro. Momo discreetly mouthed it, and it felt as sugary on her tongue as she dreamed it would. Perfect, like her name belonged in her mouth. 

“Momo Yaoyorozu,” she responded politely. 

A pair of businessmen crossed between them, and though Momo knew Kyoka probably wouldn’t disappear in the half a second she couldn’t see her, she still panicked a little. When Kyoka came back into view, still sitting on the sidewalk with a quaint smile, Momo fidgeted nervously. She couldn’t drag this out, else it would become awkward! But she couldn’t jump right in, either. Oh, she wished she had taken Mina up on those lessons in flirting when she’d had the chance… 

“I-I can hear you play. From my shop,” Momo piped up before the silence could grow too long. 

“Yeah?” Kyoka quirked a brow. Her smile widened, so Momo relaxed a little. It’s going well so far.

“Yeah!” she nodded. She hesitated for a bit, then decided to take another leap of faith. 

Timidly, she peeled herself away from the streetlamp to walk over to Kyoka. The musician watched her with those sparkling onyx eyes, but for the life of her, Momo couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Momo sat down on the sidewalk next to her, a respectable distance away but still close enough to maintain a conversation. After making sure her dress wasn’t rumpled up and showing off far too much, she looked at Kyoka with a bashful smile. 

“Yes, and I found it quite lovely. That’s why… I decided to venture over here after closing up shop tonight… to see if I could find the source.” 

“Really?” Kyoka seemed excited about it. She quickly looked right and left, then leaned in close to Momo. She seemed oblivious to the blush crawling up Momo’s neck, her eyes gleaming as she whispered, “Want to hear a secret?” 

“O-oh? Okay, sure…” Momo said, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. She hadn’t expected the conversation to veer this way, but with no hint as to where it was headed, she couldn’t figure out whether or not she should be nervous or not. 

“That song I was just playing was my soulmate song.” 

“Y-you don’t say?” Momo was trying to seem as unperturbed as possible, but heavens, her voice was shaking and her body was quivering. Kyoka was too in her own world to notice, apparently; she closed her eyes and hugged her guitar close. 

“Yep. I play it every day. Of all the music in the world, I think it’s the most beautiful song ever.” She cracked her eye open to peer at Momo out of her peripheral vision, her cheeks growing a little pink. “And… it’s a little embarrassing, but… Sometimes I feel like if I play it, one day, my soulmate will hear it, and they’ll come to find me.” 

“Y-yeah?” Momo couldn’t help the excitement that bled into her tone. “So you want to find your soulmate?” 

“Absolutely,” Kyoka nodded vigorously. She then looked lovingly down at her guitar; her hand smoothed across its sleek surface in a soft caress. “My soulmate song is why I fell in love with music in the first place. In a way… I have my soulmate to thank for how wonderful my life is.” She suddenly barked out a laugh, and she looked at Momo with an embarrassed grin. “Ugh, why am I telling you all this? I am totallynever this gushy and romantic. Ugh, how mortifying…” 

“No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Momo interjected as Kyoka went to scoot away, probably concerned she was bothering Momo at this point. Kyoka’s head snapped up to look at her with wide eyes. Momo dropped her gaze, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She’d obsessed over this moment for days now, practicing exactly what she would say, and yet now none of those words seemed right. She decided to just go for it, say whatever seemed to come to mind—that sixth sense again. 

“I don’t think anyone should be embarrassed about their soulmate. After all, it’s just so grand… The idea of someone out there being made for you, and the fact that you two share a unique bond. You can’t help but get excited.” 

Kyoka seemed to relax at that. She hummed thoughtfully, looking down at her guitar again. While she was preoccupied, Momo took a moment to drink her in. She really was beautiful. Looking at her made Momo feel completely at peace—like the way she felt when she was at the shop in the early morning preparing all the pastries or when she was at home after a long day at work, unwinding with a book and a cup of tea. Looking at her made it feel like something in Momo’s world had finally clicked into place. 

Undeniably, unequivocally, they were meantto be. 

“By the way… I think it’s the most beautiful song in the world, too,” Momo whispered suddenly. Kyoka looked up at her then, her eyebrows cinched in confusion. Slowly, her perplexion morphed into shocked understanding. Momo reached out to place her hand over Kyoka’s. Her fingers twitched but didn’t recoil at Momo’s touch. “Our soulmate song.” 

“Y-yeah?” Kyoka managed to choke out. 

It was a wonder with how wide she was grinning right now. It made her obsidian eyes scrunch up into little crescent moons, and little tears beaded up like diamonds at their corners. When Kyoka tilted her head slightly, they slipped over the rims of her eyes to spill in thin rivers down her flushed cheeks. She smiled adoringly at Momo for a long time, just basking in the glow of the moment, before her eyes slowly dropped down to Momo’s lips. 

Kyoka breathed in quietly, and then whispered, “Can I… Can I kiss you?” 

Momo flushed, but nodded in consent. Kyoka shifted, adjusting the guitar on her lap so it wouldn’t get in the way. Slowly, she leaned close. Her gaze drifted back up to Momo’s eyes. They held the heady stare until Kyoka’s lips just barely brushed over Momo’s, and then Momo couldn’t help but let her eyelids fall shut. She wanted to shut everything out, to just focus on the heavenly feeling of Kyoka’s lips gently molding against hers. And oh, did it feel divine. Kyoka’s lips slotted perfectly against hers, soft and sweet and faintly tasting of elderberry. It felt so good that she found herself chasing Kyoka when she pulled back, and the girl just leaned her forehead against hers with a little giggle. 

“Wanna stay with me a while?” Kyoka offered. 

“There isn’t anywhere else in the world I would rather be,” Momo said back. Because finally, she’d found her place in the world—right there next to Kyoka.

Word Count: 8550

Romance, Drama, Action

Summary:Third-years Ochako and Katsuki are recruited to go undercover at a swanky city gala to help the pro heroes stop an assassination plot. Ochako is quickly overwhelmed by all the grandeur and affluence, which also bring the romantic feelings she’s been harboring for her partner to the surface. But then things go south, as all is not as it seems with this mission. As Ochako and Katsuki fight to escape the crossfire, will the unspoken romance between them bloom in the highest adversity?

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for the @bnha-big-bang​! My partner @coslyons​ also made a totally awesome playlist, so be sure to check that out! Enjoy! 

As Ochako sat in the leather backseat of the luxurious limousine, part of her still couldn’t believe what was happening was real. It was all just so opulent—the bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket in the middle console of the seat, the champagne glasses clinking together with the subtle movements of the car, the deep blue mood lights, the slightly romantic classical music bleeding from the high-end speakers mounted in the ceiling. As if the fact that she was in a vehicle worth more than her apartment wasn’t head-spinning enough, the fact that she was sitting in one with her classmate Katsuki Bakugo as part of an undercover mission was enough to make her head want to burst. 

The two third-years had been approached to participate in an operation at an annual political gala that would be held in one of the city’s ritzy ballroom entertainment centers. It was located on the bottom floor of some big bank conglomerate’s headquarters, or so Ochako had been told. The Commission had received frightening intelligence detailing an assassination plot against one of the country’s most influential—and polarizing—political leaders. They were still students, so their role in the operation would be minimal—they would pose as special guests on behalf of U.A. to mingle with the politicians under the guise of obtaining more funding for the school. In reality, they would be the eyes on the ground for the heroes that would be hiding throughout the building and attempting to ferret out the assassins. If anything were to go awry, Katsuki and Ochako would be close enough to hopefully protect the man from harm. 

Truth be told, Ochako wasn’t sure she would be able to focus on the task at hand, not with the sheer amount of grandiosity surrounding her. Her jaw had nearly hit the floor when she had been presented with the gown she was wearing to the gala; even now, the luxurious silk made her skin crawl with anxiety. A gorgeous, flowing dress of pure pink silk with an asymmetric skirt baring one of her legs just enough to be sophisticated and thin spaghetti straps daintily framing her shoulders. She was wearing matching pink lace gloves to conceal her finger pads. A gold necklace with a pure spinel gemstone charm hung heavy on her neck, matching the square gem studs glittering in her ears. She’d never worn anything like this in her life, and it was driving her insane. 

“Oi, Cheeks. You look like you’re about to combust over there,” Katsuki huffed. Her previously hazy gaze focused upon him. He sat on the opposite side of the limousine, his legs spread open and his arms splayed across the back of the leather seating. Unlike her, Katsuki seemed perfectly at home with his refined wardrobe; the black tuxedo hugged his muscled figure in all the right ways. Even the way he’d rolled the cuffs of the suit and the slight looseness of his pink bowtie—the same blushing pink as Ochako’s dress—exuded a lavishness he seemed to be perfectly accustomed to. 

“Sorry,” Ochako mumbled while nervously fisted the skirt of her dress. She could barely feel the fabric’s softness through the sheer lace of her gloves, and it made a nervous shiver crawl up her spine. “I just—I don’t think I’ve been around so much money in my entire life.” 

Katsuki’s lips curled in a smirk. 

“Tch, yeah. It’s almost disgusting, isn’t it? How rich these guys are.” He began digging in his ear with his index finger, and Ochako couldn’t help a wan smile. He seriously wasn’t bothered at all. Of course, Ochako wasn’t only on edge because of the opulence. 

Katsuki Bakugo was downright sexyin that tuxedo. 

Ochako had thought about Katsuki in romantic connotations before. How could she not? He was the whole package! But of course, constant life-and-death situations superimposed on an already rigorous hero education didn’t exactly leave much room for romantic pursuits. So it was just a crush she nursed in the back of her mind, only coming to the forefront in moments like these. 

“All right, Cheeks.” She was pulled out of her thoughts again by his voice. He was looking out of the window now, his eyes narrowed. “It’s go time. You gonna be all right?” When he turned his crimson gaze on her, its intensity colored her face, her cheeks being painted a rosy hue. 

Ochako slapped her hands lightly against her cheeks a few times. The sting zinged along her nerves, driving away all her anxiety to replace it with the first flickers of adrenaline. She had to leave everything else behind; right now, the mission took precedence. Once she felt her head was in the appropriate space, she nodded firmly to Katsuki. He gave her a lopsided smirk, and as soon as the limousine ground to a halt, he popped the door open. 

“Ah, sir, I was supposed to get the door for you,” Ochako heard the driver stammer as Katsuki got out. When she scooted up to the door, she saw Katsuki standing there and tugging the jacket of his suit forward to button it up halfway. 

“Tch, that isn’t necessary,” he grunted. He then turned around and offered Ochako a hand. She knew it was all part of the refined act, but it still made her face flush and her tongue go dry. She slowly slipped her gloved hand into his, and Katsuki wrapped his fingers around it in a solid grip. She honestly felt like some sort of princess as she stepped out of the car, the folds of her dress falling around her legs and the moonlight gleaming on the pink jewels adorning her body. When Katsuki guided her hand to rest on the thick muscle of his arm, bent at his side to form a perch with his elbow, her head began to swim again. 

Focus, Ochako! She reminded herself. Oh, she was so lightheaded that it felt like she was going to trip in her heels at any moment. Lives are at stake! You can’t focus on… on… this… She didn’t even really know was “this” meant, but it was something, all right—being escorted into a luxurious ballroom by her handsome classmate while wearing something fit for royalty. And as soon as they passed into the ballroom, the attention she had just managed to rein in broke free of its leash and went galloping off in a hundred different directions. 

Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, their warm yellow lights refracting over the vaulted ceiling. A live string quartet played an elegant tune, and many couples glided around in genteel waltzes around the polished circular dance floor at the center of the room. Others—most of them businessmen in ironed suits and sophisticated tuxedos—stood on the fringes chatting idly to one another as they nursed their glasses of wine and champagne. The sheer level of magnificence took Ochako’s breath away, leaving her winded and squeezing Katsuki’s arm. 

“You good, Cheeks?” he asked her, giving her a concerned raise of his eyebrow. 

“I-I’m fine!” she squeaked. God, she didn’t even want to look at the table displaying the hors d’ouevre. “It’s just… wow…” 

“Well, look alive, because there goes our mark.” 

Ochako managed to wrangle enough control of her wandering mind to follow the subtle nod of his head. It pointed to a man that was striding confidently to one of the small tables on the edge of the ballroom, where a woman—presumably his wife—was sitting and chatting amicably to another couple. The woman smiled serenely as her husband offered her a drink, her eyes illuminating with affection as he sat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders, but even from the appreciable distance, Ochako felt there was something oddly… terse about him. Like he was hesitant to touch the woman, even with the matching rings gleaming on their fingers. 

“All right. We’ve got eyes,” Katsuki said while discreetly pressing the button on the communicator disguised in his ear. “We’ll let you know if anything happens.” There came a crackly response, and then Katsuki lowered his arm. Ochako expected him to start walking, but instead he just… stood there. 

“Um… Katsuki… It will look suspicious if we just stand here.” She couldn’t blame him, necessarily. They’d been informed that the villains were supposed to enter through the roof and make their way down, so all the pro heroes were on the upper floors. If all went perfectly, Katsuki and Ochako wouldn’t see any fighting at all. 

“Well, what do you suggest?” he snorted. “We can’t drink, and I ain’t gonna kiss ass, no matter what our cover is supposed to be.” 

Ochako looked around the spacious ballroom with an unsure hum. It looked like all there really was to do was either consume alcohol or partake in conversation with the elite. Ochako would probably faint at the scent of money on their breath, so it wasn’t really something she really wanted to do either. Her gaze came to rest at the large circular dance floor, and she hesitantly suggested, “We could… dance.” 

Katsuki looked at her like she’d recommended they strip naked. She flushed, but remained steadfast in her proposal—a few of the adults were already glancing at them like they didn’t belong there, so they had to do something before their cover was blown. Katsuki seemed to sense the growing air of unease, as he quickly adjusted his expression back to one of slightly unimpressed refinement. He cleared his throat, then gruffly said, “Fine.” 

He didn’t look happy about it, but he accompanied her out to the dance floor nonetheless. As the tile changed under her shiny nude heels, Ochako couldn’t help but let her heart flutter in excitement. I’m in this beautiful dress… in this beautiful ballroom… about to dance with the handsomest man I know! Oh, if this is a dream, please don’t let me wake up! She tried not to let the excitement show in her expression when Katsuki turned to stand across from her, channeling it only in biting slightly down on her bottom lip. Katsuki was too busy roving his hands through the air around her body to notice, anyway. 

“Uh… I put my hands here… right?” he mumbled and made a squeezing motion in the air around her hips. Ochako snickered, then guided his hands to the proper place—one resting snugly on her waist and the other perched atop her shoulder. She then put both her hands on his shoulders and peered demurely up at him through her lashes. 

“Just don’t step on my toes, okay?” she teased with a little smile. 

“Tch,” Katsuki grunted as he began awkwardly shuffling them in a circle in time with the music. “Don’t patronize me, Cheeks.” And as he did so, it felt like she was swept up in a dream. Ochako wasn’t a dancer herself, but it felt like some unseen force guided her feet so she could focus on the ethereal feeling of being in Katsuki’s arms. 

Maybe it was all the opulence, all the grandeur going to her head—nevertheless, she felt so certainly that she belonged there, in his gentle embrace. 

Katsuki’s gaze was trained on her face, like he was afraid to look anywhere else. But his cheeks were dusted the color of her dress, shining like opals in the gleaming light cast down from the chandeliers. His body gradually relaxed, making their motions smoother and more fluid; his hand slipped a little down her waist to hug the top curve of her hip, his fingers twitched over her shoulder to slip the spaghetti strap of her dress a little down her shoulder, his head tilted slightly as his gaze moved slowly from her eyes to her nose to her glossed lips. It was there that his eyes fixated, and Ochako couldn’t help but notice that his blush was gradually darkening. 

“You should be watching our mark,” she murmured. Katsuki only grunted, still focused on her mouth—like he was mesmerized by the way her lips moved. It took him a second or two to slowly pull his gaze back up. 

“Tch. I was,” he lied, and his gaze flicked over her shoulder to watch the table where the politician was still sitting with his wife. 

And a good thing, too, because that’s when the lights went out. 

Shocked cries and women’s screams rose into the air like fog rising in the early morning. Ochako gasped when she felt Katsuki rip away from her. She looked around wildly, but she could only catch snatches of his form that illuminated with the crackles on his palms as he blasted his way to the table. The dark was alive with cacophony—screams and shouts and breaking glass and splintering wood. She whirled in a circle with her arms slightly outstretched, trying to feel her way in the pitch black; she could occasionally feel a rush of wind when someone dashed past. On reflex, she apologized when her arm smacked against the solid form of a body, though they were already long gone. 

The microphone in one of her earrings crackled with static. She pushed down on it to find the radio frequency jumbled. “Villains… Under attack… Blackout…” came garbled words through the white noise. Someone shoved her from behind, causing her to stumble forward; she slipped out of one of her heels as she tripped over herself. She yelped with the twist of her ankle over her dislodged shoe, and the word that slipped out with the tears in her eyes was all but involuntary, “Katsuki?!” 

Then the lights were on, shining down on a scene of absolute chaos. Overturned tables, shattered glasses, spilled alcohol, splattered food—the opulent dream turned into a garish nightmare in less than a minute. It was even worse with the blur of Ochako falling forward into the open air; nausea swirled in her belly, from the fear, from the sadness, from the bitter disappointment. 

The air was knocked from her lungs as a sturdy arm caught her across the chest. Katsuki crouched a little as he caught her, using only the meat of his arm and his strength to stop her fall short. Ochako swallowed thickly at the close approximation of the floor to her face—close enough to watch the tear beaded on the tip of her nose to drip down and burst against the shiny tile. She gripped his bicep with a whimper; it felt like the only lifeline in this confusing storm that had washed her out to a dark sea. 

“Cheeks, I gotcha,” Katsuki reassured her. His voice was gentle, even with the gruff strain of exertion in it. With his help, she righted herself. She stood awkwardly, her shoeless foot arched in a tip-toe to keep her from leaning to one side. To this end, Katsuki kept his arm around her waist to keep her steady; his other arm was at his side, with a very teary woman clutched desperately onto it. 

The politician’s wife? Ochako realized. Where is he?!

“I lost him in the chaos,” Katsuki grunted, as if his Quirk was reading minds instead of exploding things. The ballroom was empty now, filled only with shattered delusions of grandeur and propriety. “They cut the power and attacked in the dark. He managed to get away, but I don’t know where.” 

The woman whimpered and wrapped her arm tighter around his arm, tears running silently down her pale cheeks. Ochako rubbed at her own cheeks, feeling the stains of her shed tears on them, and her belly flipped. 

How embarrassing… I can’t believe I panicked like that! How could she have let herself fall into that false sense of security, have let the mission slip from her mind in favor of focusing on all the romantic implications? She should have reacted like a hero! Not some damsel in distress! Her own shame made her bottom lip wobble and the tears threaten to fall anew. If only she hadn’t been so swept up in the magic of the moment… 

A soft gasp left her lips as Katsuki pushed her backward. She fell back into a chair, slightly splintered from the carnage. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he was on his knees in front of her, holding her ankle while he slipped her high heel back onto her foot. Ochako just bit down hard on her lip while trying not to think about how his fingers brushing over her skin felt absolutely divine. There was a sobbing woman right in front of her, but still, nearly all she could think about was how Cinderella-esque the moment was.

Focus. Focus, Ochako. You’ve already mortified yourself one time too many, she told herself firmly. She took a few deep breaths while willing her mind to return to the task at hand. 

“Are you sure that he managed to get away? What if he’s been taken hostage?” Ochako asked Katsuki. She looked down at him, and it took all her willpower not to let her belly flip again at the sight of him knelt down in front of her with his fingers resting idly over her ankle. He was lost in thought, head turned to survey the sprawl of chaos behind them. At her question, he squinted up at her. 

“Why take him hostage when the plan was to kill him?” he pointed out. The woman must not have been privy to the drama, for she released a small gasp and then buried her face into her hands. Katsuki ignored her in favor of narrowing his eyes further, ruminating. “I don’t like this one bit. Something isn’t right.” 

“You’re damn right!” came a sudden shout from across the ballroom. 

Ochako whipped around in the chair, and she felt a rush of air as Katsuki jumped to his feet behind her. Their gazes both landed on the newcomer at the same time, and Katsuki’s hand grabbed onto Ochako’s shoulder to give it a tight squeeze. Standing at the entrance of the ballroom was the politician they had been assigned to protect… 

and he was pointing a gun at them. 

“I should have known that the heroes would have had people on the ground,” he scoffed. “I just didn’t think it would be a couple of brats. And worse, I didn’t think brats would get in my way.” 

“Darling!” the wife exclaimed. She staggered to her feet, eager to rush over to her husband. However, Katsuki swiftly threw his arm out in front of her. She gasped as his thick arm collided with her chest and stopped her from proceeding. “What are you doing?” she cried, looking frantically between Katsuki and her husband. The relieved smile on her face was rapidly becoming strained. “I must go to my husband, please—” 

“Don’t come near me,” the politician snapped and turned the barrel of the pistol towards her. He began to stride quickly across the room; the slap-slap-slap of the soles of his dress shoes against the tiles was ominous enough to send a shiver down Ochako’s spine. Katsuki protectively stepped in front of the woman and shoved her behind him, using his bulk to shield her. “Have you really not figured it out yet? You’re lucky that kid managed to get to you in time. I was this close to finally putting a bullet in your head.” 

“D-darling?” the woman stammered, still nervously smiling. “What are you talking about? What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying I want you dead, you miserable woman!” he shouted. In his ire, he pulled the trigger, and the woman screamed as the bullet shattered some glasses off to their left. It probably hadn’t been intended as a signal, but at the sound of the gunshot, the side doors burst open, and at least two dozen men in black garb and riot gear streamed in to flank them on either side. Ochako stumbled out of the chair, looking frantically left and right while she stood next to Katsuki. 

“Forgive me,” the man sighed and ran a finger through his gelled hair, as if all the dramatics were exhausting him. “I let my anger get the better of me there…” 

This guy’s off the rails! Ochako thought wildly. This is so much worse than we thought it would be! Clever man, making sure all the villains were on the higher floors.

“This isn’t good!” Ochako hissed under her breath to her partner. “We’re outnumbered, and we can’t fight all of them, not with her! It’s too dangerous!” 

“Back door,” Katsuki whispered back. She discreetly peeked out of her peripheral vision and just barely managed to spy the door leading further into the building, presumably to offices and other management areas of the entertainment center. “The other heroes are on their way down to deal with these guys. Our priority is getting her out of here.” 

Ochako looked at the wife. She was gaping in horror at her husband over Katsuki’s shoulder, trembling violently with silent tears running down her face. She suddenly inhaled sharply, her irises shrinking further into a sea of white as the fear took hold. Ochako whipped back around to see the politician encroaching again, and the rest of the villains pushing in from either side. 

“I know this is going to come as a shock to you, my dear, but I loathe your presence,” the man hummed. He seemed far too pleased about the fact that he was saying the most disgusting things imaginable to someone he had professed to love. “I cannot stand it anymore. Each day with you is torture.” 

“Prick,” Katsuki gruffed under his breath. With each step forward their enemies took, they edged backward, slowly but surely creeping toward the door. But it was a dangerous gamble; slowly, slowly, they were being surrounded, and Ochako didn’t know if they would make it. 

It doesn’t matter! We just have to keep him on his tirade, and then make a break for it at the opportune moment. 

“If you loathe me so much, just ask for a divorce!” the woman shrieked at him. She went to leap around Katsuki and claw angrily at the man, but he managed to grab her around the middle and throw her behind him again. She stumbled backward in her heels, openly sobbing now. “You vile—miserable man—I have done nothing but loved you—supported you—what could I ever have done to deserve this?! I know you’re sleeping with your secretary! I even looked past that—”

“Honey, I am sleeping with way more than just my secretary,” the man laughed dryly. “And I can’t let all that come out in a divorce, now can I? So just be a good girl and die in a botched assassination plot like I intended—” 

Katsuki kept nudging the woman backward, but Ochako could tell that it was beginning to strain him. His jaw was clenched so tight that the veins bulged in his face, and his arm was shaking slightly as it kept propelling the woman back. It had always pained him to run away from a fight, and honestly? Ochako wanted nothing more than to pound the guy into the dust, too. 

Save to win, she reminded herself. She looked over her shoulder. The door was within a few yards. She slowly tugged one of her gloves off so she could inch her fingers toward the woman’s arm. She could make her float and fling her away before the gunfire started—

As soon as her fingertips met the woman’s skin, Katsuki grabbed her and whirled her toward the door. 

“Go, Uravity!” he roared over the explosions cracking on his palms. 

Ochako didn’t waste any time following his order. She fell into a roll, kicking her heels off her feet in the process. Bullets whizzed over her head; a few of them clipped off tufts of her dress, and one even shaved a few centimeters off a lock of her hair. She scrambled to her feet to sprint to the door, against which the woman was resting in mid-air gasping like a fish out of water. Ochako shouldered the door open, grabbing her arm in the process to yank her inside. As soon as Katsuki had blasted his way in, she slammed it shut and flipped both the deadbolt and the small lock. 

“That won’t hold them for long!” she shouted. She quickly released the woman from her Quirk, holding onto her to keep her steady when she came back to the ground. Without looking at Katsuki, she began to corral her down the hall in the direction of the stairs. “We should get to the rooftop! I can float us all to—” 

The words lodged in her throat mid-sentence. She’d looked back at Katsuki in the middle of talking. He hadn’t moved. He was slumped against the door, his face scrunched up in agony while his hand pressed into the bleeding bullet wound in his abdomen. Blood gushed through his fingers, and it shone ruby-red against the pale white of his fingers. He’s hurt. Katsuki’s hurt. The realization rang hollowly in her mind; she didn’t want to think it, she didn’t want to believe it, and so she could only watch in a stupor as the blood dripped down the length of his body. 

“Hey, get going.” Katsuki’s rasp pulled Ochako out of her trance. She looked at him in utter horror. “I mean it! Get her out of here. I’ll hang back and give you a chance to escape.” The door heaved against his back, making him stumble forward with a pained gasp. Ochako rushed forward to catch him, and she planted her feet as his entire weight slumped against her. She swallowed thickly at the bile rising in her throat at the feeling of his blood splashing against her dress, hot and sticky. 

“What? No!” Ochako cried, shaking her head vehemently. “I’m not leaving you, not like this! Let me stay behind, I can—” 

“No,” Katsuki growled. He ripped away from her, shoving her backward in the process. Her tears and his blood arced through the air before splattering across the floor between them. “No,” Katsuki said again, softly. He turned to the side, but Ochako could see his pain in the tense line of his clenched jaw. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide it from her. “I can’t get her off the building. You know that. The other heroes should be here soon. I’ll be fine.” 

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, and that made Ochako’s heart shatter into a million pieces. It was taking everything inside her to keep up a brave face for their terrified victim; Ochako wanted nothing more than to break down and sob and scream and pitch a fit, but she couldn’t. She bit down on her lip until it drew blood, tightening up every muscle she had and clenching her dress in a white-knuckled grip to force down all her emotions. She had to focus on the task at hand. She had to get the woman out of here. 

But still… 

“I’ll come back for you!” she promised. “As soon as I can, I’ll come for you!” 

“Tch. I’ll be up there before you know it,” Katsuki said, looking back at her with a strained smirk. He pressed his hand deep into his side again as the door heaved, the wood of the threshold splintering. “Now go! I’ve got this,” he asserted and turned his back on her. The way he was trying to hide his fear and uncertainty under a mask of bravado was enough to make Ochako want to cry again, but she couldn’t. Now was not the time for crying. 

Now was the time for saving.

Before she could be overcome by her emotions again, Ochako whirled on her heel and snatched the woman by the wrist. She dragged the startled woman into a sprint. They raced down the hall and then burst into the stairwell, the bang of the door striking the wall echoing into the upper floors. Faster, faster, faster, Ochako urged, her grip ironclad on the woman’s wrist as she all but hauled her up the stairs. There’s no time to waste! I have to get back to him; I can’t leave him to fight alone!

But Katsuki was alone, and Ochako knew it from the way the building began to shudder and moan as explosions rocked deep within the first floor. Dust rained from the ceiling, the metal railing vibrated, the windows trembled. As they ascended the stairwell, the explosions faded and were replaced by the insistent peppering of gunfire. Ochako could see the white flashes of the guns in each landing, igniting the small window of the door before fading back into darkness. The other heroes were embroiled in their own battles, and every second they tangled with their foes ticked closer to Katsuki’s defeat. 

The building was only ten floors, but to Ochako, it seemed like the stairs would never end. Landing after landing after landing they mounted, surrounded by gunfire and shouts and the shuddering building. Ochako’s lungs burned with the desperate need for oxygen. Her muscles ached with the strain of prolonged climbing. She screeched in agony when she missed a step and slammed her bare toe against the side of it, the nail immediately cracking to gush bright red blood. But she just clenched her teeth through the white-hot pain and kept going. 

It was wrong, and she knew it—thinking this way. Ochako was a hero. Her entire mind should be bent on the task at hand. Her entire mission should be to save the woman and help defeat the villain. But that was the furthest thing from the forefront of her mind. All she could think about was Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki and the fact that he was alone down there. Saving the day didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving Katsuki. 

After what seemed like ages, they came to the final landing. Ochako threw open the door, and the wind immediately rushed down to greet them. Both the women gasped as it plucked at their dresses, sending the fabric writhing around their legs. Above the roaring of the gale, Ochako heard the chop-chop-chopping of helicopter blades. She looked up, and she saw their oval forms blacked out against the stars, spotlights shining down against the bank building while news cameras rolled. 

“Come on!” Ochako cried over the din. She guided the woman to the edge of the roof and looked down. Police cars had swarmed the parking lot, forming a barrier of red-and-blue flashing lights in a semicircle around the building. The light refracted off the broken glass like an oddly beautiful mosaic; pretty to some it may be, but it just filled Ochako with dread. Even from the top floor, she could feel the building shuddering slightly under her feet; every few seconds, dust exploded out of one of the broken windows. Katsuki was still fighting. But the police couldn’t get close, not with the gunfire spraying across the parking lot to keep them at bay. 

Ochako turned to the woman, who was hugging her arm with a pale white face. The woman looked up at her when she moved, and her eyes were shrunk with fear. Ochako felt guilt twist at her stomach. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She should be making this woman feel safe. Ochako’s own problems would have to wait. 

“I’m going to float you down to the police,” Ochako said with an emphatic point over the edge of the roof. 

The woman gasped, shook her head vehemently, and clutched tighter onto Ochako’s arm. 

“We can’t! I-it’s so high, and all the bullets—!” 

“Hey,” Ochako smiled at her. Her comforting tone made the woman twitch, and when she looked back at her, Ochako smiled wider. “There’s no need to worry. I am going to keep you perfectly safe. I promise. Just hold tight onto my hand.” 

Ochako offered the woman her other hand. The woman blinked down at it. Then, slowly, she released Ochako’s arm. She slowly extended her hand out, and when she put it in hers, Ochako squeezed it tight to make sure all her finger pads were touching the woman’s skin. Ochako then touched herself, and they began to float off the ground. 

“A-ah!” the woman cried, kicking her legs a little. She cried out again when one of her heels fell off. 

“It’s okay!” Ochako reassured her. “Don’t look down! Just look at me!” 

It took a minute for the woman to tear her gaze away from the dizzying height spreading below the edge of the roof. She did, though, and Ochako smiled brightly. “Just look at me, okay? We’ll be down before you know it!” 

The woman nodded and kept her watery gaze fixed on Ochako. Ochako stretched out her foot to give herself a little propulsion, and then they were sailing out into the empty air. The woman laughed nervously and squeezed Ochako’s hand in a vice-grip. 

“O-oh, goodness! Oh, we’re flying, oh—oohh, this is… this is kind of nice,” the woman said. She looked around at the cityscape around them, ablaze in twinkling lights—cars, buildings, streetlamps, traffic stops. Maybe under different circumstances, Ochako could appreciate the view, too. But instead, she was staring at the battle-rocked building, watching for the characteristic flash of Katsuki’s explosions within. 

Even now, when this woman depended on Ochako most, all Ochako could think about was him. 

They floated a few yards into the open air, and once they had made it past the firefight, Ochako began to guide them down to the ground, alternating between releasing and activating her Quirk to give them a gradual descent. The police caught sight of them and scrambled to make a landing zone, bringing out one of the firefighter’s trampolines. Ochako let them down gently onto it, and when she released her Quirk, the woman stumbled a little as gravity took effect. 

“Ma’am! Ma’am, please come this way,” a nearby police officer said and held his hand out to the woman. The woman took his hand and stepped down from the trampoline, awkwardly limping on her one heel as she was guided to the ambulance. “Are you hurt, ma’am? Can you tell me your name?” The woman ignored his blathering to turn around and try to get back to Ochako. 

“Oh, wait, wait! I must thank you. Young lady!” She kicked off her other heel so she could hike up her skirt and rush back to Ochako, who was just climbing down from the trampoline herself. “Young lady, what is your name?” 

“Uravity, ma’am.” 

“Uravity,” the woman said with a smile. “Thank you, Uravity. You and your partner saved me.” 

At the mention of Katsuki, Ochako looked back at the building. She shouldn’t go back in, she knew it. It was against protocol. Ochako had to stay with the woman through debriefing, give a report… 

The woman smiled knowingly at Ochako. 

“You should go get him. He’s waiting for you.” When Ochako’s head whipped around so she could gape at her in shock, her smile turned wistful. “I thought I knew what it was like, to be in love. It seems that I was mistaken… But I’ve seen it now. It’s what you two have.” 

Love?!Ochako reeled. She thinks I love him? More than that, she thinks Katsuki loves me?It was outrageous. It was ludicrous. It was—

It was true. Ochako did love Katsuki. If this night had proved anything, it was that. Ochako loved Katsuki, and there was no way that she was going to leave him to fight in there alone. If that made her a bad hero, then Ochako quite frankly didn’t give a damn. 

Ochako had saved the woman and won the day. Now, it was time to save Katsuki and win their future. 

“Now, Uravity, I need a full report—” a police officer started as he approached her with a pad and a pencil. He stopped short with a gasp as Ochako didn’t even acknowledge him and instead sprinted full speed toward the police barricade. “Hey! You can’t go back in there! Come back!” 

Ochako did not go back. Instead, she vaulted herself over the police barricade and activated her Quirk in mid-air. She sailed through the debris and spray of bullets, coasting right over the armed mercenaries’ heads to land back in the ballroom. She landed in a roll, ducking behind the nearest overturned table as some of them turned their guns on her. She didn’t have time to deal with them; she had to find Katsuki. She floated the table and held onto it with one hand, using it as a shield against the gunfire while she ran back across the ballroom toward the back door. 

It had been beaten off its hinges, bent at an odd angle and forced open. She clambered over it and wedged the bullet-ridden table in the gap. There were a few more thunks of bullets slamming into the solid wood before the gunmen gave up and resumed fending off the police. That was one obstacle surmounted. Now, Ochako had to find Katsuki in this labyrinth of a building. 

The first-floor hallway was quiet now aside from the rumble of distant fighting and the zapping of the broken lights above her head. Ochako crept down the hall, pausing every few feet until the sparks of electricity from the shattered bulbs illuminated her surroundings. It was chaos, bullet-riddled walls and blown-out windows and smashed doors, but there were still signs of her partner—small puddles of blood and large patches of soot, gradually leading further into the depths of the building. Ochako would just have to follow this twisted trail of bread crumbs until it hopefully led her to her quarry… for better or for worse. 

She followed the remnants of battle into a large conference room. The roof had fallen in, onto the round table to form a makeshift slope. Ochako climbed up it to the second floor, into a set of cubicle offices. Several unconscious men were draped over the short walls, singed and dusted in soot. She carefully picked her way around the overturned chairs, scattered papers, and broken printers toward the opposite side of the room. 

She froze when she heard Katsuki yelling in the distance, followed by several explosions and gunfire. The room quivered, and dust rained from the ceiling. He has to be on this floor! she realized. Before she could take off running, though, a groaning man crawled out of the cubicle next to her. He made eye contact with her and froze; then, his eyes slowly drifted toward his discarded gun. He lunged for it, and at the same time, Ochako snatched up a discarded helmet from the floor. Just as he had slapped his hand down on the machine gun, Ochako was on him, slamming the helmet down onto the back of his head. He went limp. 

“This might come in handy,” she huffed, spinning the helmet in her hand before gripping it by the visor. She left the unconscious criminal to his involuntary nap and proceeded out of the room, following the sounds of battle. 

As she drew closer, the signs of Katsuki’s struggle grew more apparent. More and more soot blackened the walls, if they hadn’t been destroyed completely. Bits and pieces of paper littered the carpeted floor, several of them aflame. A potted plant smoked with embers in the corner, and as she passed, Ochako licked her thumb and forefinger and pinched the flame that was igniting on the papery leaf. And everything was rumbling, vibrating with each explosion that rocked the building’s frame.

Close… I have to be getting close now!

Ochako turned a corner just in time to see a man get blasted out of one room and into the other. There was a loud crash, and Ochako peered into the room to see him splayed out over a collapsed desk. Smoke billowed from his charred clothes. 

Katsuki! Ochako realized in delight and hurried to look into the opposite room. Her excitement, however, was short-lived. 

Katsuki was standing against the back wall, which was a floor-to-ceiling window; it had been shattered in, sending the wind spilling into the room. It ruffled the papers strewn all over the floor, pushing them forward until they swirled around the legs of the five men surrounding Katsuki. A large work desk was pushed up against one wall; based on the bullets riddling it, Katsuki had been using it as a shield until the men had gotten ahold of it. Now Katsuki was defenseless. 

Worse, he was even more wounded than when Ochako had left him. In addition to the bullet hole in his abdomen, which was still very much bleeding profusely, there was a large chunk of meat blown out of the side of his shoulder. He had a large scratch across his forehead, and the blood running down his face forced him to squeeze his eye shut against the sting. Sweat glowed on his skin, mixing with the blood and dust that caked his body from head to toe. 

“I gotta say, kid, you sure gave us more hell than I coulda anticipated,” one of the armed men said while slapping the barrel of his gun against his hand, as if it were a baseball bat instead of a deadly weapon. “I wouldn’t have expected you to take down fifteen of my men, wounded as you were. U.A. sure does produce some scrappers, eh?” 

Their attention was focused on Katsuki. If Ochako was careful, she could attack with the element of surprise! But she had to make sure Katsuki didn’t get caught in the crossfire. She crouched down on all fours and began to pick her way around the corner of the room, inching her way toward the overturned desk. It was a torturous pace, for she had to time her movements with the shifting of the papers. One wrong move, one loud crinkle, and she and Katsuki would be done for. 

Her presence didn’t go unnoticed by Katsuki. His red eyes flickered down to her for a fraction of a second before immediately moving back to the armed men, not wishing to arouse their suspicion. Stall, please stall! Ochako prayed silently, hoping that he would think of the same thing. 

And of course, Katsuki did. 

“Say, what’s in it for you bozos, anyway?” Katsuki huffed. “This pretentious prick hires you to do all the dirty work and kill his wife in some over-the-top assassination plot. As soon as things go south, he hauls ass, leaving you to clean up the mess. It sounds to me like you losers got the shaft!” 

“Hey, boss, do you think he’s right?” one of the men frowned, leaning in to speak to his commander in a low, uncertain voice. “For all we know, he’s on a private jet outta the country… You think we’re still gonna get paid?”

“Of course we’re gonna get paid!” the man snapped and whacked his subordinate over the head. “I don’t care where that jackass flies off to! If we don’t get our money, we’re gonna hunt him down and take care of him!” 

“But we didn’t even kill the woman,” another man frowned thoughtfully. “If we didn’t complete the mission, does he even have the right to pay us?” 

“Weshootpeople for a living! Why are we debating the principles of compensation for incomplete labor? It doesn’t matter if we get the job done or not! We get paid for trying, simple as that!” 

While they bickered, Ochako continued to crawl across the floor. She wormed her way into the small space between the desk and the wall, then carefully maneuvered herself into a favorable position. Each brush of her clothes against the wood made her heart stop; she would freeze and frantically peer out at the men to ensure that they were still squabbling before resuming her actions. Finally, she wriggled her way into a crouched position, her feet flat against the floor with her heels braced against the wall. She placed her palms against the desk, activating her Quirk to make it levitate a few centimeters off the floor. She took a deep breath in, then let it out. 

Now!

She shoved the desk, propelling it across the room. As soon as it was within grasp, Katsuki grabbed onto it and pulled it to him so he could duck down behind it. The men’s heads all snapped towards it, their mouths agape in shock; they were too preoccupied with the sudden movement of the furniture to even register Ochako spinning across the room. Helmet in hand, she catapulted into the nearest gunman and knocked him to the floor. She swiftly whacked him over the head with it, and he went limp underneath her. As the men began to turn to her, fingers on the triggers of their guns, she floated the man and kicked him forward. 

“Ooof!” the four men cried in unison as their unconscious comrade slammed into them. One of them instinctively dropped their gun to catch him—a grievous mistake. He had no manner of defense against the heroine, who sprang into the air and brought the helmet crashing down on his head. He crumpled like a ragdoll, and his friend fell on top of him.

“Kill her! Kill her!” the commander shrieked. “Kill he—mmmfffpphff!” His deranged screeches were cut off as the potted plant that Ochako had flung at him slammed into his face, filling his mouth with leaves. He flung it to the side and looked around wildly with his mouth nearly frothing with rage. But Ochako had quickly side-stepped around him and was now standing with the helmet poised above his head. 

“Nighty-night!” she chirped before bringing it down with all her strength. There was a sickening crack, and then his knees were buckling inward and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His body dropped. Ochako looked from his still body to the two remaining men, who were just gaping stupidly at her. 

“You know, we’re not getting paid,” one shrugged and tossed his gun to the side. 

“Yeah, we’re just gonna, uh, go question our lives and think about finding some new employment,” the other laughed nervously and followed suit. They ran out of the room so fast that Ochako could almost see their imprints of dust clouds floating in their wake. Mercs,she thought with a roll of her eyes. 

Katsuki peered over the top of the desk and squinted at the helmet in Ochako’s hand. 

“Did you just beat the shit out of those guys with one of their own helmets?” 

“Sure did,” Ochako smirked. She spun it on her finger like a basketball. Wait, what was she doing? Katsuki was seriously hurt! She flung it over her shoulder and leaped at the desk, scrambling over it like a monkey in her effort to get to him. She kneeled on top of it as she fluttered her hands all over him, not sure what wound to try and address first. 

“Cheeks. Hey, Cheeks, I’m fine,” Katsuki laughed. He immediately groaned, falling forward and catching himself on the edge of the desk. He coughed, then peered through his sweat-soaked bangs at Ochako. “Okay… Maybe I’m a little less than fine.” 

“Of course you’re not fine! You’ve been shot!” 

“Eh, I’ll live,” he shrugged. But he continued to support his weight against the desk, his head hung just underneath Ochako’s chin. “You got the woman out, right? You should have just stayed outside. I told you I would follow.” 

Oh, of all the—! Ochako thought with an indignant huff. She cupped his sweaty, bloody, dirty cheeks in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. 

“And I told you that I was going to come back,” she retorted matter-of-factly. “There was no way I was going to leave you to fight all those villains by yourself!” 

“You worry too much.” His voice rumbled like a cat’s purr, throwing Ochako off guard. He leaned into her touch, tip of his nose brushing against the line of her jaw and his ruby-red eyes burning into hers. “But I guess it’s all right. Watching you pulverize all those extras like that was pretty hot.” 

“Eh?” Ochako blinked in confusion. Sure, she had come to the realization that she was in fact in love with Katsuki, but she hadn’t really thought about what to do when confronted with that. She laughed lamely and stammered, “You-you’re acting pretty weird… Maybe you’ve lost too much blood…” 

“Maybe. So I guess you’ll forgive me if I do this?” he asked with an upward twitch of his eyebrows. Then he was diving forward to capture her mouth in a hungry open-mouthed kiss. He stole the breath right out of Ochako’s mouth, and then every one after, leaving her lungs screaming for air. But she didn’t dare pull away. His lips were like honey on hers, so overwhelmingly syrupy sweet that it immediately made her addicted. And Katsuki must have felt the same way, because he kissed her like he wanted to devour her; he smashed against her lips over and over like he wanted to claim every piece of her and incorporate it into himself. And hell, Ochako would let him. 

“Been wanting to do that all night,” Katsuki purred as soon as he pulled away. “Do you know how hard it was to focus on that guy when you were right in front of me in this dress?” He gestured at Ochako’s person, and she giggled. 

“Probably just as hard as it was for me to focus with you in your tux!” 

“Well, I do look sexy as fuck,” Katsuki smirked with a self-satisfied head waggle. Ochako snorted and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Even though it was his non-injured one, it still made him flinch. 

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry!” 

“Don’t sweat it, Cheeks,” Katsuki chuckled. His expression was strained, though, making Ochako pout doubtfully. Katsuki smiled in amusement at her sulking; it turned into an impish smirk, and he reached up to playfully pinch her bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. She squeaked in indignance, and he laughed. “Seriously, stop your worrying,” he smiled softly. “I’m all right now. I’ve got you to look after me, right?” 

He let go of her lip, and she smiled sweetly at him. 

“Yeah. Of course. Always.” 

“Atta girl,” he hummed, then leaned in to gently press his forehead to hers. “I promise, as I soon as I get patched up, you ‘n me are gonna finish that dance.” His face then twisted into a grimace. “Okay, now I think I really may have lost too much blood. I’m startin’ to feel funny…” 

“Oh my—Katsuki!”

Well, Ochako’s love story certainly wasn’t as Cinderella-esque as she’d thought. But it was hers, and she’d gotten her Prince Charming in the end. And she was sure their “happily ever after” would be just as exhilarating.

Word Count: 5000

Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Childhood Traumas, Healing, Friendship, Bonding

Summary:Like they do every year, the Todoroki children are heading to the countryside to spend the summer break with their mother. Their parents’ divorce is hard since they have to live most of the year with their father, who scrutinizes everything they do. It is the hardest for Touya, who is the one who has been saddled with the expectation of succeeding his father’s business enterprise. Touya feels simultaneously cut off from and close to his family, unable to talk about the immense pressure placed upon him to anyone. Instead, he chooses to isolate himself in the rolling green hills to be alone with his music. This summer, however, will not be like the others. This summer, there’s a boy like him in the meadows.

And here’s my story for the @shigadabibb​! This one is definitely heavy in the feels, but it’s a pretty personal piece for me. I hope you all enjoy it <3

Touya’s eyes were lidded as he gazed out the car window, watching the rice fields and farmlands roll by in a never-ending green and yellow mash of colors. Though his rings were digging into his cheek, that was much more bearable than having to face forward and watch his father gestate wildly in the driver’s seat as he bitched Touya out for the latest little thing he was pissed off at him about. Touya grimaced, realizing that he could hear his father’s voice bleeding in over the guitar riffs, drum beats, and bass tones blasting in his ears. He grabbed his phone to turn up the volume, but was disappointed to find that he had maxed it out. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, praying that they would arrive at his mother’s soon and his crotchety old man would finally shut the fuck up. 

Touya’s parents had been divorced since he was about ten. His mother had finally decided that she couldn’t bear with her arranged marriage and her husband’s draconian child-rearing and put her foot down. Though she’d tried her damnedest to win custody of her four children, the courts had ruled in Enji’s favor since he was the one with a job. To avoid disrupting their lives too much, Enji got them during the school week while she got weekends and holiday breaks, and during the summer, they traveled out to their grandparents’ summer home to spend the entire break with her. Though it was kind of a drag, being relegated to the boonies for that long, it was a hell of a lot better than putting up with his father’s shit as far as Touya was concerned. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Enji’s booming voice cut through while Touya’s music was transitioning between songs. Touya growled, anger causing him to look at Enji’s piercing cyan eyes through the rearview mirror. He tugged his earbud out of his ears to give him a scathing glare through the mirror. 

“No, I fucking wasn’t, since you’ve been bitching at me the whole damn ride.” 

“Touya!” Fuyumi scolded from the front passenger seat, whipping around to give him an incredulous look. “Watch your language! Shoto doesn’t need to hear that kind of talk!” 

“Shoto’seleven and he goes to public school,” Touya countered with a sniff, looking at his littlest brother, who sat in the middle seat between Touya and Natsuo. 

Looking at him with wide, heterochromatic eyes, Shoto whispered in awe, “You said ‘fuck.’” 

“Shoto, no!” Fuyumi whined, then put her face in her hand. Touya grinned, quite amused by the curse word falling from his brother’s lips, and ruffled the boy’s two-toned hair. 

“Forget the cursing. Touya’s attitude is way more important an issue,” Enji growled. The leather of the steering wheel creaked as he wound his large hands around it, twisting it in irritation. For the longest time, the only attention Touya had been able to get out of Enji was negative; seeming him tense up and clench the wheel filled him with a sick sort of satisfaction. What was he supposed to do? The man breathed down his neck all the damn time, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he was soiling the good Todoroki name—whatever the fuck that meant—that he had so far to go before Enji would ever consider handing over his business to him. Well Touya had some fucking news for him; he didn’t wanna touch that business with a ten-foot pole, and if acting out was what he had to do to get that sorry fate pawned off on somebody else, then by God, he was gonna do it. 

“Touya!” Enji barked again, bringing him back to reality, and Touya twisted his face up into a furious scowl. “Listen to me while I’m talking to you!” 

“Why should I? You say the same shit over and over again!” Touya shot back, leaning forward so fast that the seat belt locked and dug into his chest. “‘Touya, why didn’t you get a perfect score on that test?’ ‘Touya, why did you leave this business event I took you to for networking?’ ‘Touya, why do you waste your time doing other things when you should be studying?’ ‘Touya, why are you such a fucking failure?’” With each word, his pitch rose higher and higher until he was screaming. “You ain’t ever got nothin’ positive to say, so of course I don’t wanna fucking listen to you! Get off my fucking back!” 

He crossed his arms and slammed back into the car seat, sliding down a little as he bitterly sulked. Fuyumi was so fucking lucky she was born a girl. She didn’t have to worry about carrying on the family name and family business; she got to go to college and get a job as a teacher. Enji was constantly on her ass about finding a husband, though, and he did not like the blond-haired skater boy she’d started dating. They’d had many a screaming match over it, and she’d spent many nights crying in Touya’s lap, lamenting the fact that she didn’t have as much of Enji’s approval as she thought she did. 

And poor Natsuo and Shoto. Enji had nothing to do with them, too concerned with trying to convert Touya to his fucking golden child. Natsuo was wicked smart and had more potential than any of them, wanting to be a doctor—a fucking doctor! And Shoto, little Shoto, was still at the age where he wasn’t disillusioned with Enji yet, still naïvely thinking that maybe he could be the one to end up carrying his father’s mantle if he could just do good enough. 

It sucked. It all sucked, and Touya was tired on all of their behalf. But he was especially tired of being the one that didn’t remotely get to be his own person, instead forced to be the little doll that Enji tried to mold to his own will. And that was so fuckinginfuriating. 

“Look! Mom’s!” Natsuo piped up and pointed out the window. Always the one to try and escape the chaos by striking up a temporary truce. And indeed, the car fell silent, all of them looking at what would be their reprieve for far too short a time. 

Even from the street, it was a welcoming place. A gravel driveway was framed on either side with a well-tended garden, flowers bursting around winding little pathways. A small babbling creek ran through it to disappear somewhere down the hills; it was lined with rocks and had water lilies floating within, serving as perfect perches for the frogs that sang symphonies all through the night. A gnarled old tree sat in the corner of the yard, its sturdy branches plenty strong enough to support a wooden tree swing. Trimmed hedges framed the porch, and standing on the steps was their sweet mother, her sundress rippling in the breeze as she held a hand to her brow while watching Enji’s car approach. 

No matter how sour Touya’s mood had become on the ride over, he always smiled as soon as he clapped eyes on her. His only lifeboat in a stormy sea, his only calm in a maelstrom. Call him a momma’s boy, but dammit, he loved the time he spent out here with her. It was the only time he felt free, able to be himself, able to interact with his siblings in a way that wasn’t comforting them after their father’s latest slight. 

The problem was that he wasn’t able to admit that to any of them. 

Touya just had so much anger, so much bitterness, that it was just hard to let it all go even in the solace of his mother’s home. He kept them all at arm’s length, flitting about like a ghost, a stranger in his own home. He didn’t want it to be that way. He really didn’t. But he just… didn’t know how to fix it. 

Man. He was fucked up, wasn’t he? 

Touya was opening the door and jumping out before Enji had even finished rolling up the driveway. He could hear Enji bitching about it as he slammed the door shut, but Touya just flung his duffel bag over his shoulder and stomped up the path. He stepped around the little weeds sprouting up in the cracks between the stone paths as he walked. Rei came to meet him, a sympathetic smile forming on her face. Touya pulled his headphones off his ears, the music still playing and filling the air with muted rock. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said as he extended one arm for a side hug. 

“Hello, Touya,” Rei said, and his heart fluttered at the happiness in her voice. It always made him feel good, knowing that she was genuinely excited to see him. It wasn’t like his father was. Touya held the hug, burying his nose in the top of Rei’s hair to inhale her scent of vanilla and ice. He breathed in deep, and couldn’t help but smile. 

A whole month away from Enji, subject only to his mother’s love. God, he was so excited. 

“Touya!” Enji’s voice cracked like a whip across the garden, and Touya’s smile turned into a scowl. He looked over his shoulder at his father, who was standing next to his stupid fancy SUV with his hands curled into fists. “I’m not done talking to you!” 

“Well, I’m done talking to you,” Touya snapped back before pulling away from his mother and stomping into the house. As Enji came stalking after him, berating him, Touya just threw up his middle finger and walked inside. He kept on walking to his bedroom at the back of the house, ignoring the plate of fresh cookies sitting on the kitchen table that his mother probably expecting them to enjoy together. Instead of waiting, Touya walked into his room, threw his duffel bag aside, pulled his headphones back over his ears, and flopped face-first down into his bed. 

The downy comfort did little to muffle the scream of frustration he unleashed into it. 

It was about five songs before his mother walked into the room. He’d left the door open, a silent permission. He felt her soft footsteps travel from the floorboards up the frame of the bed, followed by her palm resting on the middle of his back. He pulled one of the headphones off his ear and turned his head, peeking at her through his tufts of white hair. 

“Your father’s gone.” 

“Thank God.” He wanted to say “Thank fuck,” but he did cull his foul language around his mother—because unlike Enji, she actually had his respect. Rei began soothingly rubbing circles in his back, a familiar gesture she’d used to comfort him since he was a child. And like every time before, he melted under her touch, the gesture pulling a small smile to his lips. “Did he stay and argue with you? ‘M sorry.” 

“It’s all right.” The mattress dipped as she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “It isn’t anything I’ve ever heard before.” 

It was a familiar scene, Enji screaming at Rei to make Touya see that he was on the wrong path in life, that he was destined to take over the family business, and that his dream of being a punk rock star was “irresponsible” and “immature” and he “needed to grow up.” And Rei just took it, stoic and silent, before politely telling Enji that it was time for him to leave and that she was going to enjoy her summer with her children. 

“I don’t want his dumb business. I don’t want any part of it. But he doesn’t care about what I want.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Rei sighed, heavily, like she bore as much a burden as she did. He knew she did. It pained her to see the weight of the world thrust upon her son. “But you don’t have to think about that right now. I made some cookies, and the others are setting up a board game. Do you want to come and play, sweetie?” 

Touya wanted to. He did. 

But he still curled up on his side, his back to her, and pulled his headphones back over his ear as he muttered “No thanks.” 

And like she always did, Rei leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his cheek before whispering understandingly, “Okay, sweetie. I love you.” And she left the door open behind her, a silent invitation to join them. But Touya didn’t, because he was just so confused, caught between a maelstrom of love and hate that he just didn’t know how to deal with. Because in the middle of the storm, he just felt so alone, that none of them could really understand. 

The hills behind his mother’s house was where Touya spent a majority of his time in the summer. He’d take his acoustic guitar, find that sprawling oak tree at the peak of the tallest hill, and sit there to work on his lyrics. Just his notebook, his pencil, his guitar, and his mind—that’s all he needed. The world fell away, and he could let his thoughts flow freely. The experimental strums of his guitar joined the songbirds’ trills on the breeze, and these were the times that Touya felt true peace. 

It seemed that this summer, his peace would be a bit different. 

“Did you write that?” 

Touya looked up, his fingers twitching and making the note he was strumming scratchy and off-key. A young boy stood in front of him—he looked to only be a few years younger than Touya, about the age of thirteen or fourteen. He had wavy black hair and crimson eyes; it appeared that he had some kind of skin condition, as patches of his face were crusted over and flaking. Life’s rough was Touya’s instinctual thought. 

“Yeah,” he answered, lowering his guitar and leaning back against the trunk of the tree. “I did. Whatcha think, kiddo?” 

“Ya got talent,” the boy shrugged. Though his actions and words seemed indifferent, Touya could tell from the sparkle in his red eyes that he was actually very interested. He stared intently at the guitar—did he want to play it? 

“Thanks, kid,” Touya smirked. “I’ve never seen you around here before.” Though Touya kept a mostly antisocial existence in his summer retreats, the country town was still tiny. Its population was mostly old folks and people looking for fresh starts—he’d never seen this scrawny little kid before. 

“Why? Do you live here?” 

“My mom does. Me and my siblings come visit in the summer.” He really shouldn’t be telling this squirt all this. Not that a little guy like him could probably do much, but it just wasn’t Touya’s style. Yet he felt strangely at ease with this kid; there was a sense of sameness that made his tongue looser, let him lower the walls he so carefully maintained with everyone else. Funny how one sometimes felt more free with a stranger than family. 

“We moved here a few months ago,” the boy reported. He squatted down to prod at a dandelion growing in the patch of grass at his feet, squinting as the fragile little seeds dislodged and floated away on the breeze. “Mom and Dad divorced—we moved out here to get away from the city.” 

“Heh. Same boat, kid,” Touya hummed. “You got a name, squirt, or am I just gonna have to keep callin’ ya ‘kid’?”

The boy’s eyes flickered up to meet his. He pondered the notion for a second, probably determining whether the rules of “stranger danger” applied to some weird teenager playing guitar out in the middle of the wilderness. It seemed not, as he quipped, “Tenko.” 

“Tenko, huh? Well, I’m Touya. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand for him to shake. Tenko studied it, then reluctantly reached out to shake it. His hand was rough from his skin condition, yet still had that smoothness of a kid who had yet to toil in the world. As Touya pulled his hand away, he reclined back against the tree. “So, what are you doing wandering around out here, Tenko?” 

“I like to hunt grasshoppers.” 

“Tch, I bet. They get massive out here,” he mused. He cast his gaze out into the tall grasses, which rolled like waves with the persistent breeze. Several of the giant insects perched on the blades, the thin plants bending under the weight of their long legs and hard carapaces. When Touya looked back at the kid, he noticed a large cage nearby with several of the grasshoppers contained inside. “So what do ya do with ‘em? Ya eat ‘em?” 

“What? No!” Tenko cried, laughing in disbelief. 

“Why? Good source of protein. I bet they’re crunchy,” Touya snickered and gave Tenko a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows. Tenko laughed again, and for some reason, it made Touya feel good. How long had it been since he had laughed like that? Carefree and innocent? 

“I don’t eat them,” Tenko insisted, his words inflecting with another giggle. “I just let them go at the end of the day.” 

“Then why hunt them in the first place?” 

“I dunno. It’s just something to do, I guess,” he shrugged. He slowly fell back onto his haunches, tucking his legs under himself to begin idly tearing up the grass with his hands. “I like it out here. It’s peaceful. I was always anxious in the city because people stared at me.” He scratched at his face, and Touya suppressed a grimace at the dry skin flaking off and falling down onto his shirt. “Out here, though, they really don’t. And it isn’t busy and loud. I like it.” 

“But?” 

“But it can get a little boring sometimes,” Tenko admitted with a wry smile. “I have a little sister, and she plays with me sometimes. But sometimes she likes to go play with the girls down the street—” 

“Leaving you alone,” Touya finished, and Tenko nodded. “And so, your solution is hunting around for giant grosshoppers.” There were worse ways to kill time out here in the boonies. At least he wasn’t like a lot of the teens, vandalizing old barns and making moonshine out in the woods. Stuff that Touya would do, back when he was sorting out his shit. Of course, he was still sorting out his shit, but not in destructive ways. He’d moved past that, thankfully, with gentle guidance from his mother and older sister. 

Of course, Enji had just bitched at him and called him a deliquent that was squandering the “good Todoroki name.” 

“Touya?” 

“Eh? Sorry, little guy. Got lost in thought,” Touya said, looking back at Tenko. The boy was staring curiously at him. “Anyway… You live with your mom, huh. Got daddy issues?” 

Touya must have hit the nail on the head because Tenko’s face scrunched up in distaste. 

“Yeah… Mom says it’s complicated.” 

“Don’t they all,” Touya huffed. “Complicated” was just an excuse they used to avoid saying the guy was a dick to their kids. 

“Is your relationship with your dad complicated, too?” Tenko asked, looking up at him with watery eyes. 

“Complicated? Nah, my dad is just an asshole, through and through,” Touya laughed dryly. 

“… You wanna talk about it?” 

Touya looked at Tenko like he had grown another head. Yet Tenko was serious, staring levelly at him. “My mom says that talking about how we feel is good. I always talked to her about how I felt,” he explained, looking back down at the ground. He reached out to touch the dandelion again, feel the few seeds still clinging to it. “I was scared, at first—I thought that she wouldn’t understand. Not really. I thought she would just tell me things to make me feel better. But… she listened, really listened. And that’s why she left my dad.” 

Tenko’s smile turned wan. “Is it weird? Being proud that you caused your parents to break up?” 

“Depends,” Touya said quietly. “What did you tell her?” 

Tenko was silent for a moment. He still fiddled with the dandelion, even though the last of the seeds were gone now, too. Off on the breeze, looking for somewhere to take root. 

“I wanted to be a dandelion,” he said. Touya tried to control his face this time—the kid was clearyl lucid and startingly wise for his age. It’s the trauma, he thought wryly. “I wanted to be free to do follow my own path, you know? I wanted to be a police officer like my grandma. But my grandma… My dad didn’t like her. She gave him up for adoption because she didn’t want him to have to suffer a life where she wasn’t there all the time. But my dad felt like it was because she loved her job more than him. So when I told him that I wanted to be like her… Things changed. He said that he wanted me to carry on his business, and that was my responsibility as the eldest and only son.” 

Ugh. This kid really is a mini-me, Touya thought, his nose crinkling with the beginnings of a frown. What was with parents and their dumb obsessions with family names and businesses? Talk about archaic bullshit. 

“He started treating me differently. I was under a lot of pressure to perform… But no matter what, I couldn’t do anything right. Eventually it got so bad that I started to believe that I was meant to be nothing more than a failure.” 

Nothing more than a failure. The words echoed hollowly in Touya’s heart and mind. Nothing more than a failure. It was all stuff he had heard before, but… why was it so heartbreaking now? Why were Touya’s eyes stinging and filling with tears? 

“I told my mom about all the stuff he said to me, but I also told her about how it made me feel—really feel. And she listened.” Tenko looked up to give Touya a soft smile. When he saw the tears leaking out of the stunned teenagers eyes, his smile softened. He stood back up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and held his hand out for Touya. “All I ever needed was for someone to listen. Maybe I can do that for you. And maybe then, you can play your songs for your family instead of out here all alone.” 

Touya inhaled, then exhaled shakily. Fuck, was he dreaming? There was no way he was having such a philosophical conversation with a squirt that had just barely hit puberty. But he was, and Tenko was real, and he was offering to be the first person who would really sit down and just let Touya vent. 

So Touya fucking vented.

The words tumbled from his mouth almost sooner than he thought of him. He spilled his guts out about everything—how from birth, his father had always expected everything from him because he was born for the sole purpose of making Enji look good. How he was always told that he had no choices, that his only role was to take over Enji’s business one day, how dreams and goals were irrelevant because he needed to be “a good responsible man.” How he had to fit into this stifling constrictive mold that Enji had made, and how much it pained Touya, how his soul was literally screaming for release every waking moment. How many times he’d wanted to die, how many times he’d tried to die, how he pulled himself from the brink because he couldn’t subject his little brothers to the Hell he was in. How he’d rebelled, turned himself into everything Enji hated just to try to feel his own person, but how he really just felt like a shell with nothing to call his own. How he was scared that he never would, that he would always be that soulless doll of Enji’s, how all his attempts would fail and he would have to crawl back to face the music and become prisoner to life at a desk.

And Tenko listened. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t offer any empty sympathy or generic advice. He just stood there while Touya sobbed and spilled every dark secret he had been keeping for so many years. He just stood there with a smile on his face until Touya finally wound down, his voice hoarse from crying. He felt empty… but a different type of empty than he had up until this point. An empty like… he’d spilled everything out, and now he was clean. Now, he could fill himself up again, but with something good this time. 

“Feel better?” Tenko asked finally. 

“Shit, yeah,” Touya rasped as he craned his head back, his skull thunking against the wood. Apparently he’d ranted for a long time—the sun had traversed the sky and was beginning to sink toward the horizon. “I… didn’t know how much I needed that.” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Tenko laughed. Touya looked at him down the bridge of his nose. His parents had only been divorced a few months, right? How on Earth was this kid so… so light? So full of happiness? How could he be like this, when he had been carrying the same weight as Touya? 

“You’re wondering how I do it,” Tenko guessed. Touya felt heat rise to his cheeks. Fuck, this kid was so good it was scary. “My mom shares custody with my dad. He still says the same things to me. But… I just don’t let them get to me any more.” Touya raised his head, looking at Tenko almost in desperation. He had to know. He had to know so it wouldn’t get to him anymore. He had to know so he could be as free as Tenko was. 

“I don’t hold it in,” he revealed with a small smile. “I talk to people who will listen. And it makes me realize that I’m not a failure. I’m just me. And if my dad doesn’t like that, that’s his fault. Not mine.” 

“It’s that simple?” Touya almost couldn’t believe it. Just… talking? Then again, he did feel pretty damn good after unloading like that. Free of blame.

“I still struggle,” Tenko admitted. “But I don’t feel like I’m alone anymore. I don’t distance myself from my mom and my sister like I did before. They can help me, and I know that now. Because they understand, even if I think they didn’t.” 

They understand. Even if you think they don’t.

Fuyumi, the eldest child who couldn’t pick someone good enough. Natsuo, the middle child who didn’t exist in Enji’s eyes. Shoto, who just wanted his father to tell him that he was proud of him. His mother Rei… who always left the door open. 

They understand. 

Tenko looked a little startled when Touya abruptly stood up, and he stumbled aside to avoid the guitar as Touya swung it on his back. Though Touya was gripped with the itching urge to get home, to get home now, he managed to ground himself back to reality a little bit. He placed his hand on Tenko’s head and ruffled his hair affectionately. 

“Thanks, kid. You’re a real good listener yourself.” 

“Yeah?” Tenko asked, preening under the older kid’s praise, and Touya nodded. 

“Yeah. Let those grasshoppers go, and I’ll walk you home. If you want, tomorrow, you can come over and play with my brothers.” 

“You won’t be out here?” Tenko asked, hurrying after Touya when he began walking. He scooped up his insect cage and opened the door, letting the grasshoppers spring free. Touya waited for him a few feet away, and as soon as he was back at his side, he put his hand on his head again. 

“Nah… I don’t think I need to anymore,” he said. He looked over his shoulder. That old oak tree had heard many of his songs, his feelings, his thoughts… But it was time to find a new listener. A better listener. One who really understood. 

“Oh… Well, will you come hunt grasshoppers with me sometime, then?” 

“Heh, yeah. For sure. I’ll bring my guitar and teach you how to play, too.” 

“For real?!” 

“For real.” 

The sun bathed them in its dying light as they walked down the hill, back toward home. And even after he dropped Tenko off home, he didn’t feel alone.

“Touya! You’re back,” his mother exclaimed in surprise when he walked in. When Touya went to the hills, he usually came home long after sunset—sometimes in the deep of night, and even then, his mother would be patiently waiting for him, even as sleep made her eyelids droop. She was standing in the kitchen stirring a pot of cooking stew. “I, um, I’m making dinner,” she said, watching as Touya pulled off his boots and set them in the entryway. “It will be a while…” Her voice petered off as Touya walked toward her. 

She then squeaked when he wrapped her up in a tight hug. He buried his face into her neck, and as her scent of vanilla and ice enveloped him, the tears sprung back to his eyes again. His voice shook as he murmured, “Mom… I want to talk about it now.” 

Rei didn’t move for a few seconds, but Touya kept clinging to her. Finally, she let out a small breath. He felt her move, followed by the click of her turning the burner off. She then wrapped her arms around Touya, pulling him close to her and leaning her head against his. 

“I’m here for you, Touya. I’ll listen.” 

Touya had spent so many summers here. Every time he looked forward to it, an escape from the constant hounding by his father. But he had never been able to escape his own darkness… until now. 

Touya was a dandelion. And finally, he was letting his seeds go, setting them free to the breeze. They would take root, be nourished and cared for, until they grew—grew into Touya. Not a doll, but a person, a person with a beautiful garden for a soul. But a garden couldn’t flourish without help… and so when Touya needed to talk, he would find someone to listen. 

And he knew that he could now. 

Word Count:2280

Pining, Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship

Summary:Katsuki is working a late shift at work. Ochako is home alone, pining miserably for him. But she doesn’t want to bother her boyfriend while he’s at work, so she is doing everything she can to avoid caving. But it’s so hard…

Howdy! A day late thanks to lift stuff, but here is my entry for the @bnhachallenge​’s Pinefest Challenge! 

Ochako lay on her belly, stretched out across her bed with a throw blanket draped over her form. She kicked her legs lightly against the mattress; each slap of her calves against the plush bed filled the air with solid thoomp-thoomp-thoomps. She had her chin propped on one arm, while the other held her phone up in front of her face. Her thumb repeatedly swiped up on her screen to propel her through her social media feed. Nothing of interest. She tapped her messaging app and pulled up her boyfriend’s contact information—

and she flung her phone into her pillow with a frustrated screech. 

“No, no, no, no!” she scolded herself, her voice growing more exasperated with each cry. “You can’t text Katsuki! Bad Ochako! Bad!” She tried to further steel her resolve by slapping her cheeks firmly a few times, but all that did was make them sting. With a groan, she flopped her face down into the comforter. Too bad the fabric was too breathable for her to suffocate. She’d rather that than continue whittling away the hours pining for her boyfriend. 

Katsuki was working a double shift at the agency that night, as one of the other sidekicks had been injured on the job the previous day and was on strict bed rest. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, Katsuki picking up extra shifts; he lived to be on the ground, for heroism was in his very blood. It was one of the many things that Ochako admired about him. So Ochako hadn’t put up any fuss when he’d informed her that he wouldn’t be home until the wee hours of the morning. 

However, she hadn’t expected the clock to strike eight p.m. and she suddenly be hit by an intense craving for her boyfriend’s presence. 

With another groan, Ochako rolled onto her back. With lidded eyes, she stared up at the ceiling fan, her dull eyes tracing the circular pattern of the rotating blades. She’d been at this for two hours now, this back-and-forth. What was she, some kind of lovesick schoolgirl? She and Katsuki were way past that honeymoon phase of dating where they couldn’t stand to be apart from one another for five minutes, constantly having to have their hands on one another. No, they’d slipped into that comfortable domesticity, secure in their love for one another. Except apparently, Ochako had tripped and fallen right back down the slope to land in a puddle of want and whiny need. 

Can’t text him. Can’t text him. Can’t text him, she told herself while punctuating each sentence with a knock of her curled fist to her forehead. 

It wasn’t like they had a strict no-texting rule while they were working. In fact, when they had downtime, they often spent it by texting or, if time permitted, a quick phone call. But the person at work always initiated the conversation, not the other way around. Even in that rush of hormones and love at the beginning of their relationship, Ochako had never been needy enough to bother Katsuki while he was at work. She didn’t know how he would react. 

Ugh, he’d probably laugh at her. “You just wanted to hear my voice? Are you serious, Cheeks? Couldn’t you have waited until I got home?” Groaning with mortification, Ochako ran her hands down her face. No, she couldn’t text him, not when she was like this. There was no telling what she would do or say, and the result would be the same. Katsuki wouldn’t appreciate it, not at all. 

“All right, Ochako,” she sighed to herself and pushed herself up off the bed. “You just need a good distraction. Yeah. Just keep your mind busy until he gets home. Don’t even think about him.” 

She milled about their shared bedroom, looking for something to occupy her mind. As she passed by their work desk, she spotted something peeking out from one of the cubbies. She squatted down to pull it out. Oh! This is the adult coloring book Momo gave me for my birthday. They had been Momo’s recent obsession. Great for relieving stress, she said. Ochako fished out the pack of colored pencils that had come with the book and sat down in the desk chair, pushing the laptop aside so she could open up the book. She flipped through the pages of stylized, feel-good illustrations until she came upon one she liked. 

A kitten in a watering can. Nothing more stress-free than that, Ochako chirped to herself. Yup, she would just color this cute little kitten, she told herself as she pulled the gray colored pencil out of the box and began coloring in the watering can. Look at her! Just coloring away! No reason to think about Katsuki at all—

“Why the fuck is that cat in a watering can? Is this the kind of girly shit you guys think is cute?”

“Uuuuuuugh!” Ochako cried and slammed her forehead down onto the desk. The box of coloring pencils jolted, sending them sliding out of the pack. “Get out, get out, get out,” she pleaded while knocking lightly on the side of her head. Her thoughts of Katsuki clung stubbornly to the inside of her head like glue, however. She could literally envision him frowning over her shoulder, arms crossed while he squinted at the illustration of the small feline perched in the gardening tool. 

“Well, cats will sit in literally anything. I guess it’s not that hard to believe that a kitten would post up in a watering can. But why put this in a coloring book? Why not color something awesome, like, a fire-breathing dragon, or a big ugly ogre or somethin’?” 

Ochako smiled wearily despite herself. Oh, to be actually debating with her boyfriend the merit of adult coloring books instead of sitting here by herself, imagining it instead. 

“Well, that’s enough of that,” she sighed and sat up so she could close the coloring book. It definitely wasn’t doing the job. She put it back in the cubby and walked out of her bedroom, hoping that something in another part of the house would pull her mind away from Katsuki. It was only a few steps before her stomach growled. 

“Food. Food is good,” she told herself as she veered left into the kitchen. “Food is always distracting.” 

The bright light of the refrigerator enveloped her in its icy white glow as she pulled the door open. “Hmm, now let’s see,” she hummed to herself. “What do I want?” Her eyes roved over the various snacks and ingredients arranged inside, waiting for one to call out to her as the prime late-night snack. Her gaze fell upon a package of mochi, and her stomach immediately flipped in response. She honestly should have gone straight for it, she thought with a laugh and grabbed the package. 

“Mochi, mochi, yummy yummy mochi~” she sang to herself as she walked to the kitchen table, swinging her hips in a jerky little half-dance. Rather than turning on the kitchen light, she just left the refrigerator door open, spilling light and cool air into the room. She was just going to cut the package open, have one or two, and then go back to her room to hopefully fall asleep with a Katsuki-free mind. She used her keys, which were lying on the table, to slice through the plastic. Her eyes dilated a little as her fingers sank into the squishy mochi, and she held it up to inspect its gooey goodness in the pale light of the refrigerator. 

“Damn, I wish you looked at me like you looked at that mochi,” Katsuki’s voice chimed in her head. Her face immediately scrunched up in displeasure. Oh, how could she have forgotten? He said that to her everytime he caught her eating mochi. She looked sourly at the rice sweet, and her stomach did a not-so-nice flip this time. It definitely wasn’t as appetizing as it had been two seconds ago. Sighing, she placed the treat back into the pack and put it back into the fridge. No late-night snack for her, then.

She closed the refrigerator door, but rather than walking somewhere else, she just leaned forward to press her forehead against the cold metal. Ugh, this is hopeless, she thought morosely. It didn’t matter what she tried to do. She wasn’t going to be able to get Katsuki out of her head. It was downright painful, the insatiable need just to hear his voice, see his smile, touch his skin. It was even like, a dirty need. She just wanted him to be there, so she could bask in his presence and his being and his everything. 

“That’s it. I give up,” she huffed and pushed herself away from the fridge. Every step back to her bedroom felt like a march toward failure, but she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. So what if Katsuki laughed at her and teased her and even scolded her for bothering him over something so silly? If she could just hear his voice for two seconds, that would be enough. 

Resolute, she sat cross-legged on her bed and called Katsuki before she could change her mind. 

He picked up quicker than she expected. The gravelly, “Hey, Cheeks” from her speakers after just one dial tone made her jump. 

“H-hey!” she squeaked. 

“Is everything okay?” Her eyes fluttered with a soft sigh. She could practically see him frowning right now, his red eyes narrowed and lips poked out in a terse little pout. Why that was sexy to her right now, she had no idea. 

“I, um…” Moment of truth. “Nothing’s wrong. I just… I really missed you.” Ochako squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the laughter, the chiding, the scolding. Nothing happened; instead, she was met with silence. She cracked an eye open to peer at her phone screen, where her contact picture of Katsuki smirked at her. “Um… Katsuki?” 

She gasped when a notification of a video call suddenly popped up. Katsuki was trying to video call her. Her stomach sank in dread; ugh, he wanted to scold her face-to-face? Resigning herself to her punishment, she swiped to answer. 

Instead of a stern frown, she was greeted with that familiar playful smirk that never failed to make her heart flutter. 

“You missed me, huh?” he purred. He was sitting at his desk, she realized, leaned back in his chair with his legs propped up on the wood. One arm was slung back over his head, while the other propped the phone up on his thigh. 

“Yeah,” Ochako admitted, fidgeting against the pillows behind her. She nibbled at her bottom lip while her free hand messed with the hem of her pajama shorts. “I’m sorry to bother you… I know you’re probably busy…” 

“Never too busy for you, Cheeks.” His tone was serious, not flirty. She peered back down at the phone to find his expression had turned into an intent stare. “Were you afraid to call me?” 

“Not…afraid,” she said evasively. She scratched at the side of her head, trying to voice her concerns without making him feel bad. “I just… I felt bad, you know? I mean, it’s silly, me just pining for you like some teenager. I didn’t want to call you just to hear your voice and take up your time…” 

“Ochako.” 

She looked at him, poking out her lips in a pathetic little pout. The smirk was pulling back at his lips, and she was relieved to see mirth dancing in his ruby-red eyes. 

“It’s not silly at all. If you miss me, you miss me. There’s no rule saying you can’t feel like that anymore after you’ve been in a relationship for a certain amount of time.” His expression softened, making Ochako’s heart flutter in her chest. “You know all those times I call you from work are because I missyou, right?” 

“… I thought you were just bored.” 

“Well, that too, but if I was just bored I could call any number of people. But I call you.” 

Ochako couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across her face. She let out a girlish giggle and shyly twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. She was simply unable to contain herself. Katsuki missed her! All the time, too, based on how often he called her. 

“So… Feel better?” Katsuki asked. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. She then tipped her head to the side a little, her expression growing sheepish. “Well, a little. I still miss you lots. I wish you were here.” 

“Me too. I still have another five hours,” he sighed and looked away, presumably at the clock on the wall. She watched the subtle movements of his jaw as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Then, something dawned on him, and he looked back at her with a mischievous grin. “Hey, why don’t you come up to the agency?”

“Eh? I can do that?” 

“The fuck they gonna say? Ain’t nobody here but one hero and a couple sidekicks. You know what night shifts are like. It’s just paperwork and the occasional late-night scrap,” he shrugged. He leaned forward, smirk growing dangerous in a way that had Ochako’s nerves lighting up. “Seriously. Why don’t you come up here and show me how much you missed me?” 

Ochako had never sprung out of bed so fast. Katsuki’s laughter rebounded around the room as she scrambled around, tearing off her pajamas to put suitable clothes on. 

Sure, the phone call was nice. But nothing compared to being in the arms of her wonderful boyfriend. Ochako could play the lovesick teenager a little longer…

Kaminari: Hey Midoriya! What does the fox say?

Bakugo: God, don’t sing that-

Izuku:Dattebayo!

Bakugo and Kaminari:

Izuku: Y-You were meaning Naruto, right?

Me: I wanna see Bakugo’s guns.

Me: NO HIS GUNS

Me:YEEEEEEE

Bakugo: What happened?!

Izuku, sitting in the back of an ambulance: I just got hit in the head from behind, it’s no big deal.

Bakugo: I told you to wait for me before going in that alley, you nerd!

Izuku: Speaking of which, I think the guy who hit me painted red graffiti all over on the walls. Not cool.

Paramedic: Deku-San, that wasn’t paint. That was your blood.

Bakugo: Oh for Fu-

Izuku:

Bakugo: What’s the matter with you? You’ve been sitting there in silence for five minutes. It’s creepy as hell.

Izuku:

Izuku: You ever just look at a word for so long that it feels misspelled but it’s really not?

Bakugo:

Todoroki: He hit his head earlier at practice, just let him be.

Hori: Well…It’s time to put Bakugo into MAXIMUM OVER-DRIVE

If Bakugo Worked at McDonald’s:

Aizawa: Okay, we’re taking our test. Get out your pencils.

Kirishima, raising his hand: Sensei, can I borrow one? I forgot to bring my pencils today.

Bakugo: You forgot your pencil but brought that damn thing?!

Kirishima, pumping a iron dumbbell: What thing, bro?

Recovery Girl: Ah, Midoriya-kun, could you help me get Mr. Sokka on the gurner?

Izuku: Oh, sure thing, Recovery Girl!

Recovery Girl:Great.

Izuku, picking up Mr. Sokka’s feet: So what’s wrong with him?

Recovery Girl: He’s dead.

Izuku, drops the feet: OH MY-WHAT! D-Didn’t we just s-see him an hour ago?!

Recovery Girl: Oh dear boy, he was dead then. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you.

Izuku:

Bakugo: Oi nerd, why are there paw prints all over your homework?

Izuku: I dropped my stuff this morning on the way to school and an alley cat ran over it.

Bakugo:HAHA!

Izuku: I just hope Aizawa-sensei won’t be too cruel in grading it.

-

Bakugo: So, how badly did you fail?

Izuku: H-He gave me a perfect score.

Bakugo:

Izuku: He also wrote it was the best work he’s seen from me.

Kirishima, walking back into the room: Todoroki, bro. As much as I love wrestling, you have to flip back to the award show. Bakugo and Midoriya are about to come up.

Todoroki:…This is the award show. They got into an argument backstage.

Kirishima:Wha-OH!

Todoroki: Wow, I hope Bakugo can walk that off.

Bakugo and Todoroki, watching Deku’s TV interview from backstage:

Todoroki:S-Should we help him?

Izuku, sweating and stuttering: OKAY, OKAY-Look?! Who HASN’T had gay thoughts?!

Interviewer:…Are you okay, Deku-San?

Izuku: Yes, It’s just-I feel like I need glasses sometimes.

Bakugo: This is just too beautiful to stop.