Chapter Text
“I baked!”
The girls had agreed to meet at Uraraka’s for a drink before heading out – only a few hours after Bakugou had left. Nakagame would be arriving shortly with Kodai, Yanagi, and Sekigai in tow. Ashido, and Kirishima, were apparently helping out with the preparations and therefore unavailable for the gossip session beforehand.
“I can see that,” Uraraka giggles at Yaoyorozu’s enthusiasm. The taller woman hands Uraraka a tray of strawberry danishes to put in the fridge until their other friends arrive and their evening can officially start. “Why though? Bakugou said he was cooking.”
“He asked me when I popped over to your place earlier! I had originally said no, since I’m behind on school work what with the mission and all, but he said, and I quote, ‘I’ll make it worth your while’ which is equal parts exciting and terrifying so…I baked.”
“When did he ask you that? I was there the whole time,” Uraraka asks over her shoulder as she leads them into the kitchen. “I would have made a request for something chocolatey.”
“When you were half asleep in his lap.” Yaoyorozu gives her an astute look and Uraraka immediately shoves her head into the fridge to offer her a beer before they leave. Uraraka’s obvious avoidance is duly noted and Yaoyorozu sighs. “Speaking of which…how was your date with Shindo?”
Uraraka peeks over the fridge door sheepishly. “Nakagame told you about that, hey?”
“Yes, and no.” Her nails tap rhythmically against the little table. It feels like yesterday when Yaoyorozu dumped a bag full of erotic novels on that table. “Nakagame told me, but Bakugou explained in quite a, hm, what’s the right word…oh! — in an irascible manner.”
“Good word choice,” Uraraka comments and pulls out two cans after setting the large tray on top of a carton of eggs. “I don’t think I’ve ever said ‘irascible’ out loud before. I’m not sure I could even spell it if my life depended on it.”
“Thank you! I added it to my vocabulary recently, after hearing it in a dark romance audiobook I listened to while writing up some reports for Hawks – by the way, don’t make that mistake. Hawks kept looking at me and I swear he knew what I was listening to, even though I had headphones on. He just kept passing me the strangest smiles.” Yaoyorozu pivots out of the kitchen and begins to shuffle about Uraraka’s apartment, searching through Uraraka’s closet and pulling out an additional coat – throwing it at her with a nod. It’s colder than they expected tonight. “But the book itself is, at the basic level, a Romeo and Juliet retelling in a yakuza setting. You’d like it! If you remind me, I can definitely loan it to you. There’s this one scene where Romeo makes love to Juliet by sticking his gun up her—”
“Oh! My date!” Uraraka shouts and catches the coat, fiddling with the sleeves as her cheeks burst into a shade of red akin to a tomato. She’d be wearing Bakugou’s sweater instead. The one he had let her borrow, the one she had kept. He seemed to appreciate the outfit last time – a too-short skit, a too-big sweater – his sweater – and nothing underneath. “My date went well. He’s nice. Folds his underwear, though, so kinda’ odd, but yeah, nice.”
Yaoyorozu clicks back to normal, an unrecognizable smile creeping along the corners of her mouth. “Really? I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to have a more settled relationship after the fiasco a few years ago. Are you going out again?”
“Mm, right well…” Uraraka hums, eventually scooting around her to hang the coat back up slowly and wander around the room. Yaoyorozu sits slowly on the couch to stare down at the girl. “...no, not exactly.”
She processes the news at an alarming rate. “So, Bakugou?”
“Yeah,” Uraraka says easily, plopping down onto the ground in front of her, “Bakugou.”
“Really…Bakugou?” She almost sounds surprised. Not in an offensive way, but in a surprised way.
“Yeah,” Uraraka says again, definitely offended, narrowing her eyes, “Bakugou.”
No matter how she reads the situation, she wants Bakugou.
Instead of the judgemental look that Uraraka expects, Yaoyorozu’s lips spread into a graceful smile. Her eyes relax and she exhales – relieved.
“And does he know this?”
“Maybe? Kind of. Not really. I’m going to tell him tonight. But, uh…” She bubbles around trying to make the explanation less unsettling than it is. “We’ve been, um, seeing each other for a few weeks now.”
“Oh, like I could ever forget.” Her laugh reminds Uraraka of a windchime - not a care in the world, even with a typhoon reported in the forecast. “I know.”
“You know?” Uraraka cracks open her drink and almost cuts her finger in surprise.
“Yes, obviously I know.” Yaoyorozu rolls her eyes, completely out of character and yet so ‘Momo’ that Uraraka feels as though she’s finally getting a peek behind her perfect walls. “I walked in on you two one morning before work a week ago, maybe a little longer? It was horrific, so I blocked the memory and I purposefully stopped popping by unannounced because even though I absolutely adore you and would support you no matter what, I don’t need to see you shoving a very-naked-Bakugou into this coat closet.”
She jerks her thumb back towards the entrance and Uraraka claps her hand over her mouth. Bakugou had come over once before work and Yaoyorozu’s breakfast visit quickly came to an end. His pattern had been built on that occurrence.
“But,” she continues, “I’m assuming that wasn’t the first time nor the last?”
Uraraka’s mouth thins into a concerned line. “…do you really want to know?”
“I know that you have an affinity for monster fucking, light BDSM, and enemies to lovers but one lover must be pining from the beginning.” She crosses her legs and leans one elbow on the arm of the couch, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “I know your preferences for fictional intimacy, why wouldn’t I want to know your taste in real men?”
So Uraraka tells her – telling Yaoyorozu about K.E.M. wasn’t too bad, so maybe telling her about Bakugou wouldn’t be the end of the world either. A friend is a friend until the end and Yaoyorozu is nothing if not her best friend.
She listens and nods and her eyes flick across Uraraka like she’s deep into the plot of an adventure novel, the Hero’s Journey reaching its final steps: their meet-ugly in the bookstore and argument at work, the shower incident and the first hook-up all the way this morning.
“It’s like I…okay, well…” Uraraka rocks her knees and waves her hand airily. “...let’s just say, in theory, that I like him. Love him, whatever. I like what Bakugou offers on paper. I like what we could be if our story is written perfectly, but I have no control over the story.”
Yaoyorozu holds up two fingers, laying one down as she speaks.
“Did you know that love — your heart — can’t differentiate between what is real and what is fake? It’s why we feel like we fall in love with characters in our books. And movies, and animes. Our heart doesn’t know the difference between fact and fiction.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’ve been in love hundreds of times, Ochako-chan. What’s the difference between Midoriya, your fictional Love Interests, and Bakugou?”
Uraraka shrugs. She knows there’s no right answer. “What’s your second point?”
“This isn’t a story. This is your life. You are the protagonist, aren’t you? You have full control to respond to how you want your life to be written.” Yaoyorozu lifts her beer in appreciation before taking a long drink. “I’d wager that you are the author, you get to decide how the events affect your characters.”
As Nakagame bursts through the door, with Sekigai hurrying in after her, Uraraka considers her place in the story.
“Woah, so swanky, Bakugou-kun” Nakagame announces upon their arrival, whistling lowly. Yaoyorozu doesn’t seem all that impressed and Kodai remains silent. Yanagi and Sekigai pass a quick whisper between themselves and Uraraka searches the crowd for blond hair. He’s on the far side, in the kitchen, squished between Kirishima and Ashido as they surely make things harder than they have to be. “I can’t believe you’ve never had us over before. Rude of you to not share the city views, especially when we’re always stuck at my place for shenanigans.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, right buddy boy? Hawks is cool but I don't blame you guys for needing a night away!” Kaminari – the wrong blond – jumps up from the couch where he and Sero were obliterating Yoarashi on the video game console. The other two boys swivel around and greet the girls. He bows low and extends his hand to the side, welcoming the girls in. “Welcome to Casa de Bakubro. We chill here all the time!”
“Don’t call it that, Sparky,” Bakugou shouts from the kitchen, over the sounds of the television and Jirou playing his guitar and Tokoyami trying to keep Dark Shadow from singing along.
Uraraka hears him, though, loud and clear. Her stomach threatens to rocket upwards.
“Kaminari-kun has been here before but not me? I feel personally offended.” Nakagame pets the excitable young man on the head and then shoots him away. She takes control of the new situation with ease and drifts further into the apartment to help in the kitchen. “It’s good to see you again, Kirishima-kun, Ashido-chan. Jirou-chan, I hope the album is going well. Have you guys finally taken Hawks up on his offer of joining the Agency next crossover or did you just–”
“Oh! Good! You’re here!” Yoarashi is quick to jump to his feet as well, handing the controller into Uraraka’s unsuspecting hands – begging her to take his spot. “I’m awful at this game, Uraraka-chan! Please help, or else I’ll have to go meet Hawks at the club and I’m even worse at dancing.”
Makabe snorts quietly from the table, covering his laughter by having a sip of his beer. Kamakiri, on the other hand, laughs out loud at how the four other girls dodge Yoarashi’s huge form. Shishikura eyes the girls as they walk in, content with a glass of water and silent until Yaoyorozu almost drops her tray of strawberry danishes to lean out of Yoarashi’s path – zipping to his feet to assist the girls.
“You’re blocking the entrance.”
Uraraka, with a video game controller in her hand, a smile plastered on her lips, and far too many friends in her space, bounces to the side at the sound of Todoroki appearing behind them.
“Bakugou wanted hot sauce, so I bought some.” He motions to the paper bag in his arms, full to the brim with a variety of different wasabis from the convenience store down the street. “I bought all of them, actually.”
“Good job, babe!” Sero congratulates his boyfriend, focused on the television screen as he wins the round amongst the commotion. “You coming Uraraka-chan, or will you be dancing with Hawks too?”
Uraraka kicks off her shoes in a hurry and leaps over the back of the couch to land on the cushion between Sero and Kaminari. Her back faces the kitchen and her fingers tap repeatedly in order to catch up with the professional slackers, She can’t see the chaos unfolding (Bakugou trying to control a kitchen that undoubtedly becomes less controllable) but basks in the glory of her team.
The party is like a condensed montage in the final pages of an epilogue. In a blur: there’s good food and lots to drink and Uraraka watches in amazement as her team becomes tighter and her worries become smaller.
Bakugou braids Yaoyorozu’s hair and carries Yanagi on his back. He partners up with Makabe for a drinking game and humours Jirou by blasting her newest song. He makes sure that Todoroki always has a drink in his hand and shouts at Sero for smoking indoors. Bakugou lets Yoarashi win in the video game during a redemption round and feeds Kirishima one of the danishes. Sekigai and Kodai giggle at his expense while Nakagame tries to spar with him after one too many drinks. Tokoyami and Shishikura do their best to help him clean up after Kaminari sets a small electrical fire when turning on the fan.
No one mentions his sweater. No one mentions how they orbit each other.
The montage fades and the uncertainty fades, too.
They meet in the kitchen.
It’s the end of the night.
Uraraka feels particularly pink and offers to do the dishes while the crowd clears. It must be obvious – to him, their friends. She’s wasting time – she wants his time. Because for every action Bakugou took, she had a reaction.
“Hi.”
Bakugou’s whisper catches her off guard, quiet against the backdrop of their friends. He’s close though, pressed by her side, his hand sliding over hers as he hands her a towel. Rough and calloused and unbelievably large, it lingers.
Uraraka smiles – she can’t help it. “Hi.”
She doesn’t have to do the dishes, and in fact, he doesn’t want her to. He steps in front of the sink and takes her place, but doesn’t ask her to leave.
There aren’t many layers to Bakugou: an outer, aggressive and arrogant shell covers a gooey centre. The gooey centre can only be seen sometimes, like a flicker between pages. When he looks at her though, the story is still being written and she has a staring role. She can feel it in her bones, she can taste it on her tongue.
Uraraka is the Love Interest but Bakugou has written her as a Hero.
“You look good,” he says, on a whim. She blushes quietly. “Are you having fun?”
And she’s earned a bit of fun, hasn’t she?
“You know what would be more fun?”
Bakugou scoffs and Uraraka pouts and then he laughs – her stomach lurches again.
“You know what you want, right?”
“Do you?” Uraraka asks and accepts the damp dish, using the towel to dry it.
The apartment is eerily quiet without the bombardment of their friends.
Bakugou doesn’t turn to face her, instead he continues washing the dishes and keeps his head down. Uraraka steps into the starlight coming in from the window above the sink and places a delicate hand on his side – careful to not startle him or herself.
“You did a good job tonight, you did a good thing for everyone. The teams needed a night out without having to be away .” Uraraka brushes her Quirk pads along the seam of his shirt, slowly. “I sometimes forget what a good leader you are, how you’re such a great friend.”
“You haven’t left yet.”
Everyone – almost everyone – left.
She drops her touch from his waist to settle on his hip, linking her pinky through the loop of his jeans. “Do you want me to go, too?”
“No.”
Kamakiri had volunteered to walk home Kodai, Yanagi, and Sekigai first. The three girls were more than capable of getting themselves home but Kamakiri needed a good excuse to leave. Nakagame had draped her arms over Makabe and Tokoyami, cooing at Dark Shadow as she stumbled out soon after. Kaminari, Sero, Ashido, and Todoroki were ushered out of the apartment by Kirishima and Jirou when the quartet decided it was a good time for karaoke – when Bakugou explicitly said it definitely was not a good time for anything of the sort. The six were undoubtedly on their way to a club and may bump into their sad and forgotten boss.
“Do you want me to stay?” Uraraka asks quietly, taking Bakugou’s single nod as a positive sign. “I want to talk to you.” He nods again, a little shallower and quicker and it’s less confident, but he agrees regardless. “Okay, good.”
“Everything is tidy now, Bakugou-kun!” Yaoyorozu calls from behind them. She and Shishikura had stayed sort through the disaster their friends had left behind in their wake. “We’re going to head out now. Thank you for such a fun night, and I’ll make sure to smooth things over with Hawks if he finds out. It was great and I hope that you can host again in the–”
“Shit, wait, no, I’ve got something for you.” Bakugou flicks the water off his hands and pats them dry on his pants, weaving past Uraraka as he heads through one of the closed doors. Even in the dim lighting, she can tell there isn’t a bed – it’s an office. “I’ve got your book.”
“You borrowed a book from Yaomomo-chan?” Shishikura refrains from sneering but is still audibly confused.
Concern etches Yaoyorozu’s brow, “I don’t remember loaning you a book?”
Uraraka chases after him — towards the closed door and the beyond — but is too slow. Bakugou reappears with a book in his hands only after she skids to a halt beside the pair.
“The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.”
“Bronte?” Yaoyorozu squeals, reaching for the leather-bound book. Her hands shake and her feet freeze. Wisps of greed roll off of her and Uraraka can only peek around her shoulder in admiration. “This is such a lovely edition.”
“Oh!” Uraraka gasps upon seeing the cover. It’s the same one from Firefly & The Fox. It’s the same from the romance aisle. A few shelves above K.E.M., where he had trapped her for the first, but not the last, time. “I thought you bought it for your dad’s birthday?”
“I did,” Bakugou admits. A beat passes. His ears turn a bright burgundy colour. “I found another copy.”
“I– I don’t know what to say, but thank you! Bakugou-kun, this means a lot.” Yaoyorozu twists the beautifully preserved book to display it to Shishikura and Uraraka, showing off the dents and scrapes and stains with pride. “It’s older, an out-of-print edition that I’ve been on the hunt for. I can’t believe you found another copy. Hota has been on the look for me on the markets and when he said that it had been bought by another customer, I had been devastated and then I thought–”
“It’s a classic.” Bakugou clips suddenly and Uraraka promptly blushes when he winks at her. “You've got good taste. Bronte is rooted in reality compared to her sisters’ passionate depictions.”
“You’re a fan? In that case, I might have some recommendations if you’d like to sit down and chat. Ochako and I recently exchanged a few different titles that I think you might be interes-”
“Okay then, well bye Yaomomo-chan! Thanks for coming Shishikura-kun!” Uraraka practically pushes the pair out of Bakugou’s apartment before things take a horrible turn. She can't think of a single reason why Bakugou would ever need to know the books that she and Yaoyorozu trade back and forth.
Bakugou laughs — really, truly laughs — and knocks his head to the side, back to the kitchen where the dirty dishes wait for them. She exhales, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and saddles up next to him to dry the dishes as he cleans them.
They were in a patient kind of pause until the very end.
He mutters a thanks and before he can try to change her mind, she opens her mouth.
“You said that I only bond with people on paper, but that’s not true. I’ve got friends and family and I’ve got you.”
Bakugou pales at her declaration and her heart speeds up. He isn't a friend and he isn't family: Bakugou is a singular character that continually trapezes across her page.
He looks handsome. A Love Interest in all his glory.
“You…you said that I deserve better than decent and that I was scared of facing reality. The reality is, Bakugou-kun, that you won me over. I want you.”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve wanted this? How fucking badly I want you?”
“But you avoided reality too! You avoided me for years. I had no idea that you ever considered me more than whatever we are.” Uraraka swallows. “You keep saying, whatever you want. But I have no idea what you want. It’s like I’m trying to decode you, trying to pick up clues and I can’t.”
“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou hushes her, pressing his knee between her legs.
She tries to reply but her brain short circuits at the feeling of his jeans slotting against her bare core. Bakugou directs her chin up and brings his lips to hers, muting her gasp. His tongue rushes to meet hers and she rewards him with a tremendous sound. Leisurely, Bakugou explores every corner of her mouth – her moans echo into his mouth, urging him on. Her fingers dig into his shoulders eagerly while his arms wrap around her waist and lead her backwards, only a few steps at a time until her back hits the adjacent wall. His knee remains wedged between her legs, holding her up as her back arches and a violent tremble trails through her spine.
What had started as her confession, writing on the wall for only him to see, had exploded into words escaping every level of her vocabulary. Bakugou makes her forget how to express herself, Bakugou makes words blend together and she's unable to string a thought together, never mind an actual rational sentence.
Domineering and irresistible, Bakugou kisses with a perfect mix of teeth and tongue and Uraraka tries to keep up. Bakugou kisses so well that she is blind to how he pushes her through the door until the back of her legs hit the bed – his bed.
She doesn’t have much time to take in his bedroom – it’s dark and a decent size with a dresser and mirror and it’s normal. No folded boxers as far as she could tell. It smells like him, like sandalwood and fresh earth and ink. Oddly enough, she does notice that there isn’t a book insight besides the one on his bedside table.
Her focus melts into nothingness as he – ever so lazily, ever so carelessly – lays her down and ghosts his fingers down her waist to her hips to her thighs. The sweater glides over her shoulders and he kisses everywhere until her breath cuts off, eyes wide as his light touches make it to her centre. He smirks against her hip, brushing his finger across her clit and inhaling deeply.
“Bakugou, please, I want–”
“I know, fuck, Ochako, I know.”
“I want you, I want–”
“Let me take my time, please,” Bakugou begs, raising his head into the crook of her shoulder. His growl resonates into her chest, leaving an imprint. “Please, god, just be a good girl and let me take care of you.”
He lets a single finger slide smoothly over her heat, threatening to burn her, himself, and his home.
Uraraka whimpers in agreement. How could she not?
Bakugou takes her pretty little preen and runs with it: persistent licks and nips trailing across her pink skin scorch a trail as he inserts two fingers at once and her whimper turns into a desperate whine.
“Katsuki.” It sounds similar to a prayer.
“Say it again,” Bakugou begs, and she really can’t handle how he needs this. “My name, say it again.”
He crooks his finger upwards and she finds herself following his order. “Katsuki, yes, yes.”
“Again,” he demands, his cock rubbing against her leg, his mouth sucking at her nipple, and his fingers working wonders.
“Katsuki,” she moans and wraps both legs around his hips, grinding on his hand.
“You’re so hot, Ochako, I— my sweet girl, you are so fucking perfect.” Bakugou praises her, pets her, pleases her. “I want you to say my name again.”
She hisses at the new friction, the heel of his hand rubbing her clit in fast circles.
“Katsuki!”
“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you saying that.”
He props himself up, hanging over her body with his hand still controlling her every sound, and she sees it – she sees how he looks at her with an indescribable expression – but Uraraka tries to find the words. Reverent, smug. Lust. Love.
She cums on the silent command, his fingers beckoning to her and her body responding. She can’t deny him.
He lets her ride the wave, only easing his fingers out of her after her body releases him. Uraraka groans at the loss and already aching, eyes splitting open at his unusual halt. His fingers, drenched in her, shine in the dim light that crosses into his bedroom from outside. She catches him glancing down, catching her curiously clenched jaw, before he raises his fingers to his lips and licks them clean.
Time, touch, taste. Uraraka watches him breathlessly.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
He pounces on her suddenly, wildly. He makes her aware of every touch, every thrust, every twitch: she revels in how full she feels. He grunts her name and sings her praises and she chants her desires and repeats his name over and over again but it never feels like enough - “Katsuki ” means everything and nothing. She can’t define it.
He sags on top of her, their foreheads touching as they find their peace.
“I want you, too.” His eyes still closed and his cock still inside her, Katsuki grins. “I want you to stay.”
Firefly & the Fox is her place. Her special place – in the romance aisle.
A place where she can lose herself and find herself simultaneously.
This is also her place. In his bed, her chest heaving and her body singing. Underneath him, on top of him, next to him. This is her place: in the same story.
Another montage flashes before her eyes and soon he rolls out of bed in search of pants and by the time she’s sitting up, he grabs her hand and rolls her out of bed too. He tosses her the sweater - it’s too big, but she thinks that might be the point.
“I’ve got something for you, too.” Bakugou leads her into the spare room, out of their place and into the wild. It’s an office. The walls are lined with books and photos and there’s an old typewriter in the corner. The desk has a stack of books on it. “My uh…”
A copy of Infinitely Sweet sits at the top of the stack. He must have bought his own copies, a cheesy prank at best, but Uraraka slides each book off the top until she reaches the last. Underneath, Play With Me, Monster Lead Me Home, and Angels Like You.
At the bottom – Celestial, K.E.M.’s unreleased novel.
“My uh…” Bakugou repeats, mouth dry and holding his breath, “…favourite books.”
The cover features a sunset with stars, pink and orange and flashes of bright light. K.E.M. is written along the bottom, in the same block font that it always is.
Uraraka hops into the living room and dances and gushes and flitters through the first few pages and studies the covers and she gawks because this is it – this is really K.E.M.’s next book. Somehow Bakugou had gotten his hands on it before it was released.
“You got this for me? Is this for me? I…how?” She crashes onto the couch, head landing awkwardly on the armrest and feet half falling off: the perfect reading pose. She scans the dedication page and sighs, just short of being described as dreamily. It’s there. Read between the lines -K. Uraraka beams at the irony. “Bakugou-kun, how did you get this?”
“You really are an idiot.”
Uraraka drags her gaze away from the book in her hands at the sound of his disapproval. It’s no different than usual, but his voice calls for her whole attention — more so than before, now that she seeks his attention.
He stares at her — slowly and deeply and gently.
His hair mused from sex, his cheeks flushed from fear.
He’s shirtless. His sweatpants hang low.
His smirk is shaky, his skin littered with evidence of her.
He stares at her — and she falls in love, slowly and deeply and gently.
“I know, I know, I’m an idiot,” she responds, her smirk more solid than his, “I don’t think you mind all that much, though.”
Bakugou slinks around the couch, hands outstretched and clammy, as he reaches for her forearm — the one he had claimed to be his own. They stick to her skin, tugging and touching as he slowly runs them up and they find their rightful spot under her jaw. Uraraka feels her skin gently flush at the embrace, closing the book to give him her full attention. His breath is hot against her chest and butterflies quickly erupt deep within her belly.
“You…you are so–” Bakugou murmurs, muddles.
He tries to find the words, only to lose them completely as she closes her eyes.
She expects him to kiss her.
She wants him to kiss her.
His hands tighten briefly, and he blurts out, “King Explosion Murder.”
Her eyes flutter open again. Her lips part slightly in surprise. “Huh?”
“K.E.M. stands for King Explosion Murder.”
There’s a thick layer of silence settling in between them.
“Somehow, I lost my way. Somehow, she found me. ”
“No,” Uraraka says. Shut him out, shut him down.
“I don’t need her, but I want her, and I don’t know what’s worst.”
“Please, no,” Uraraka whimpers under the pressure. Liar.
“She looks at me like the sun won’t ever stop shining. Selfishly, I hope she’s right. ”
His grip loosens, curling upwards into her hair. He laces his fingers through the knotted locks, dirty with his own sweat. She stays incredibly still, begging him to take it back.
“Please don’t say it, Bakugou-kun.” She gets to choose when she leaves him.
“And now I know that she is more than I ever imagined. We are hers, and she is free.”
She tastes blood, her lip bleeding from how she wishes to close the book.
“Read between the lines, signed - K,” he finishes, unwillingly. “You know, Ochako. And I want you to know.”
“Katsuki,” he reads her lips. She could say his name a million times but she'd never be able to truly understand him.
K.E.M., King Explosion Murder, K., Bakugou Katsuki.
Uraraka closes her eyes again, squeezing them shut until her brow furrows in the centre of her forehead and little dots begin to float around in her vision.
“Why are you doing this, Katsuki?” She shakes in his arms, frustrated that she finds it all so funny. “Why would you say that?”
“Why won’t you just accept this?”
“Accept what ?”
“My confession. The truth.” Bakugou backs up, letting her go, and shifts through the books on the table and flips open the first of his work. The fresh copy of her favourite book – smelling sweetly of ink – is marked up by pen. Bakugou’s handwriting, she recognizes it from her arm, annotated his own words. “I wrote them about you, for you .”
Uraraka flicks her gaze between the books on the table and one in his hands and, god, she attempts to meet his eyes a dozen times but falls short each time.
“I love you.”
Bakugou Katsuki is aggressive and arrogant and awful.
“I have loved you since we were sixteen. I wrote all of this for you, but never thought you would read them. I never thought you would love me too.”
She still wants him though. I love you, too. “I am not sixteen anymore. I have changed. I’ve been through a lot.”
Bakugou opens his mouth, his tongue running along his teeth. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve changed too?”
Uraraka winces and pushes herself off the couch, pacing past him.
His words are filled with emotion and meaning and she can’t bear to hear them. They are heavy and Bakugou makes Uraraka weak.
The pen is mightier than the sword, and Bakugou has struck her through the heart thrice. A dagger drips with her blood, with one hand he twists the handle — digging in deeper, slowly and gently — and the other writes upon her soul. His lips steal the last of her words. She is unable to fight back; pen, sword, and passion are lost in the pages.
He follows her, determined to match her timing.
“Angels Like You. It’s based on when we moved into the dorms. I…I fucking watched you. I watched you fall apart after the Raid and I couldn’t do anything to help, so I wrote.” Bakugou shakes the book and Uraraka shakes her head in disbelief.
“Monster Lead Me Home — it’s based on that fucking Halloween party. The one where you dressed up like a hot witch and I had to leave early because I couldn’t keep it in my pants, so I left and wrote.”
Uraraka can’t imagine what she looks like.
Ill, she must look ill. Pink, too.
“And, fuck it, Play With Me. Do you remember when we found out the League was named after League of fucking Legends and it became a joke and you…you wanted to learn to play. So you did, and you were good, and I wasn’t, so I wrote.”
She stops dead in her tracks and Bakugou steps into her space.
“And… Infinitely Sweet?” A foot apart is not far enough. “Those books were all based on things that happened in our first year at U.A., so I’m assuming…”
“We made mochi together. Or at least tried to. It wasn’t very good cause you’re shit in the kitchen but you liked my cooking and that was-” Bakugou groans, mind-numbingly – her head shuts down at the sound. “-when Deku finally got his shit together and confessed. So…I wrote myself into your life.”
K.E.M.’s rumoured release Celes …ah. Bakugou’s newest novel, Celestial.
“Celestial,” he whispers, “is about now.”
Uraraka flexes her fingers, desperate to get her hands on it but unable to. Any other time, she would have kept at the chance to read something new from K.E.M. but now K.E.M. isn’t Bakugou and Bakugou is…well, Bakugou is Katsuki.
“Co-workers to lovers,” Bakugou supplies, nudging the pretty pink and orange book towards her again - tempting her. “I’ve never written about Quirks before, so it doesn’t have Heroes or anything but it’s about our contract together. We signed Hawks’ contract and I had to write again.”
“Does he fuck her and then fuck her over too?” It comes out a bit harsher than she means it to.
“No, no, he doesn’t have his head up his ass.” Uraraka overflows with fondness at the memory from so long ago. “He tells her how he feels, and then he fucks her.”
Bakugou Katsuki is aggressive and arrogant and he makes her feel gooey on the inside.
“I can’t believe you. You never told me.” Her heart shatters, she is not an idiot. “How was I supposed to know?”
“I did tell you. I tried to tell you. I…god damnit, I dropped hint after hint. I thought I was being clear. I want you, I have wanted you.” Her fists tighten and it takes every cell in her body not to hit him. He can read her mind. “Don’t look at me like that! The books weren’t the hint, idiot. I– fuck, I couldn’t help but drop hints.”
“Clear? Hints? Are you kidding me?” Uraraka yelps because fuck that. She pokes his chest, twice and he takes it like a professional – like he’s expecting it. His little smirk makes it worth more. “Katsuki, how the hell would I have read between the lines like that? You said it yourself, my head is in the clouds. You have to be clear. You have to be explicit.”
Bakugou sputters at the word at the implication. He wraps a hand into his hair and tugs, hard, angry at himself – but not at her.
All he can manage is a pathetic sorry.
“Why did you write? About me?”
Her keen tone has his snapping his head back up. She's morose but malleable. He has a chance.
“At first, they were like journal entries and then they turned into something that felt too real, they turned into the realization that I was falling in love,” Bakugou explains. Love, love, love. He explains that he was in love, is in love. “So I added sex. I was falling in love and they felt like bricks, not books, so I wanted to add a factor of fiction. Something that I wouldn’t ever get to experience with you.”
“Until you did.”
“It’s better than the books, Uraraka. You far surpass my imagination.” Bakugou seeks her pulse, reaching for her wrist and calling for her neck. “You always have. You continue to surprise me.”
Uraraka takes the opportunity to pull him down onto the couch, his body pressing against hers.
Slowly, gently, deeply. He folds into her.
“You, fuck, I saw you reading Play With Me at work one day last year — like it was nothing. You had a straight face, totally focused and then you smiled and all I could think was what? What was it that did it? What words worked? I needed to know what you wanted,” Bakugou laughs, stressed and strained, and Uraraka flourishes under the verbal ministrations. “When I saw you at The Fox, I freaked out. When I saw you holding my book, again, I thought this is it. It was my sign.”
It’s starting to make sense. Her heart beats a little faster.
“I made that shitty blog in one weekend and sent Celestial to the printer. I wanted you to have access to me, to my other side. But nothing came from it.”
Uraraka giggles and she can feel him smile into her hair.
“I missed my chance before but when you told me I was your favourite, I felt sick. I was your favourite author and you didn’t even know. It all felt like a lie at that point so I went-"
“Balls to the walls? Katsuki, I fell fast. I was afraid you weren’t going to catch me.” She pecks his cheek, pulling him closer.
“I really like when you say my name, Ochako.” He nuzzles into her cheek, kissing along the underside of her jaw. “I had nothing else to lose except you, and I wasn’t going to lose you again.”
They stay like that for what feels like hours, maybe forever.
Uraraka buzzes with pride, completely satisfied with the plot twist. After all, who would have seen this coming?
“This is a lot to take in. Kinda’ overwhelming.” Her hand massages his scalp, dragging her nails along the top of his spine. He practically purrs.
“I’ll stop writing,” Bakugou grumbles, half asleep from the emotional exhaustion. The poor guy had been up and down and wrote draft upon draft for her. “I…don’t need to write about you anymore.”
“But I like when you write about me.”
He lifts his head, stunned to see her honesty: a gate opens and guilt races through her blood. Goosebumps parade across her skin. This is goddamn love.
“I’ll write for you, but not about you. No one else gets to experience you like I do.”
She can see it, between the lines, where he’s written around her heart.
“It’s a stupid name, by the way,” Uraraka jokes, tapping his shoulder, and prompting him to move. “King Explosion Murder. There’s a reason that Midnight made you change it.”
“L.E.M. was worse.” He points out, refusing to shift even an inch. His place is beside her. "Lord Explosion Murder was my backup."
“And Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is better?”
It’s a good thing he laughs.
She’s looking forward to their next chapter together.