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Ochako proposed. She didn’t get down on one knee, or have a ring, but she proposed. Well, sort of. She got the credit, anyway.
Usually, after their special brand of intimacy, Bakugou would have enough energy to run a marathon; but that night he had quickly passed out. Uraraka didn’t mind. She enjoyed their quiet moments. She was tired, too, after all. Being a Hero was hard work.
She smiled, inhaling the scent that could only be described as her Katsuki as she nuzzled against his bare chest. Her voice was soft, dreamy. “I wish we could stay like this forever. Marry… me…” Uraraka’s eyes slipped closed and she was out like a light.
The tiny error in her plan of quietly proposing marriage to her sleeping boyfriend was that he wasn’t exactly asleep.
Bakugou’s heart rate skyrocketed but he stayed perfectly still. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His—no!—his excitement. His disbelief. The quiet, yet deafening, inner turmoil of his ever-evolving feelings for his girl—no, the damn fine, badass woman—were absolutely riotous now. The reason his eyes were closed in the first place, the reason he was so peaceful, was because his thoughts were not far off from hers. She thought he had fallen asleep. No, this firecracker of an angel brought him someplace close to what he imagined heaven would feel like.
Time passed but his thoughts didn’t slow down. He was itching to get up, to move, but he didn’t want to accidentally wake her or, worse, trigger her Quirk since she passed out before putting on her sleep mitts.
Sometime during the middle of the night, Uraraka had rolled off of him to become something that could only be categorized as half girlfriend, half blanket. She was an awful blanket hog; but when he realized he still managed to fucking love her, despite of this, he knew what he had to do.
Ochako slept like the dead, so he wasn’t worried about her waking up. He was worried about being able to reach where he needed to reach. Thankfully, luck was on his side. She had curled herself up into a ball but was cradling her pillow with her right arm, on her side, leaving her left arm free and hand resting on the pillow.
Quietly making his way to and reaching into his open closet, he scanned through the pieces of clothing until the jacket he was looking for came into view. He reached into its side pocket and pulled out a small, black, velvet box. He had purposefully picked an old dress jacket he no longer wore so she wouldn’t accidentally come into contact with what he was abso-fucking-lutely keeping a secret until he was damn well ready.
The prospect of marriage wasn’t completely out of the blue. He had been planning on asking her, eventually, but the anxiety about “the right time” was overwhelming. There were too many variables that could throw this whole mission off its axis.
He silently thanked Ochako for being more forthcoming with her emotions than he could ever be. So, in usual form, he decided to be a man of action.
Bakugou had bought the ring months ago.
With a laser-sharp focus, he had registered her keen interest in this exact ring one day when they had been window-shopping on a luxury street downtown after a rare date night. She tried to downplay her interest by laughing that it was the only item on display without a price tag, but he noticed that last look she gave it before turning away.
He returned to the shop the next day to buy it. He would take the amount of the ring’s cost to his grave, if Ochako asked, but his Hero salary was above average and his savings were bountiful. He was fine.
Better than fine.
They were better than fine.
She deserved every penny he spent.
He carefully lifted the white gold, cushion cut diamond ring from the box. The man told him it was two carats, whatever the hell that meant, but he knew it was good. The way her eyes lit up when she saw it was priceless. The ring was covered in diamonds and he was pretty sure she’d lock it up in a safe versus ever wearing the damn thing but—
With minimal breathing and movement, he was able to lift her finger and slide the ring on.
Fuck yeah. Success.
What he didn’t expect was for her to rub her face with the back of that exact hand and scratch herself across the temple when she woke up a few hours later.
“Ow ow… I’m awake!” she groaned, groggily opening her eyes to see what scratched her. “What the—HELL IS THIS?!” her voice rose at least four octaves when her eyes landed on her ring finger.
He had been in the kitchen cooking breakfast to surprise her, and because he was fucking hungry, but he didn’t anticipate that she’d wake up before he brought it to her. Turning off the burner, he quickly rushed into his bedroom only to see blood trickling down the side of her face.
“What the fuck happened? Are you okay?” he barked, jogging into the adjoining bathroom to grab some tissue. He came back and pressed it to the scratch. “Did you fall off the—oh,” he stopped mid-sentence as she lifted her left hand at him with a “what the fuck” look on her face. “Well, I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Do you not wanna?”
“Do I not wanna what?” she challenged, bewildered and excited and emotional. She sat up, then stood, sheet wrapped around her as she balanced on the mattress.
Katsuki’s nerves were on fire—her reaction was so all over the place he had no idea if it was positive or negative.
His ears weren’t fucking broken. He knew what he had heard.
He took a few seconds to compose his thoughts as he stared her down. Exhaling, he gave her a small smile she knew he reserved for her and only her. “Marry me.”
“Was that a question or a statement?”
“Marry me?”
She snorted in laughter, just wanting to mess with him a bit. Leaping from the bed with a manic grin on her face, she tackled him to the ground in a full-body hug and covered his face with kisses.
“Yes,” she replied over and over again, each kiss stamping the word onto his skin.
The bacon burnt—he only managed to turn off the eggs before, not the entire stove—and the fire alarm went off, but it was completely worth it.
. . .
Without warning, at least to the press, they had a small ceremony with only family and close friends present.
However, a Hero gossip news channel got a hold of a photo that was now making the rounds.
Mina had sent her a text with a link and a warning: “Can’t these bitches find something else to talk about? Proceed with caution.”
Ochako deeply and immediately regretted clicking the link.
“Breaking news! Uravity and Ground Zero tied the knot a few weeks ago at a remote location off the coast. It seems that No. 1 Hero Deku, as well as Red Riot, were also in attendance among other top Heroes. How exciting!”
“Exciting? Does she have Stockholm syndrome or what? You saw that battle between them years ago!”
“They were kids!’
“She must be pregnant. There’s no other explanation for that quick of a wedding, right?”
“Their relationship is abusive. It’s toxic and unhealthy. Why make it messier than it needs to be by getting married? Ground Zero may be smokin’ hot, but that attitude is not cute. She could do better.”
“I don’t know, he’s mellowed out a little—well, mellow for Ground Zero, anyway,” one woman said. “Maybe it was Uravity’s doing? Maybe he’s a passion project? I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, that’s for sure.”
“I say he’s got major guilt. Maybe infidelity? Did you happen to get a good look at that ring?! That looks like apology money to me!”
Ochako groaned, closing out of the video. She didn’t need any more of that nonsense. Who were they to pass judgment on her relationship with her husband? Despite the sour taste in her mouth, she took a second to try and calm her nerves. Breathing deeply, in and out, taking measured breaths. Counting to ten.
She was very happy with her life. This kind of negativity was pointless and could only end in pain. Why was she the victim? She was a Hero! She could defend herself better than most of her class at UA, back in school. Why did everyone need to have an opinion on what clearly wasn’t any of their business? Despite counting to ten, she groaned in frustration, kicking her legs out. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Not for the speculation (okay, well, a little) but how her “considerate as fuck” (his words, but she agreed with the sentiment) husband’s good name was being dragged through the mud.
She wouldn’t stand for it.
Her phone buzzed. Mina again. “Uhh, you’re going to want to turn on H! News Live on TV right now. Is your husband supposed to be at work?”
She replied: “What do you mean by ‘supposed to be’?”
Mina: “Turn on the TV!! NOW!”
The last thing Ochako expected was to see Ground Zero staring down a group of women on a daytime talk show demanding an apology for spreading lies during their previous gossip segment.
. . .
Katsuki sat on the couch, half paying attention to the news story flashing across the screen. Apparently it wasn’t “okay” to confront overly chatty snobs when they were spreading lies about his marriage. It happened days ago! Didn’t the news have actual news to report? He sighed, glancing into the kitchen where Ochako was tidying up after dinner—or, at least, that’s what he thought she was doing until he saw her in those pink sweatpants wiggling at the counter. That fucking happy dance—the sure sign dessert was in progress. He leaned forward, attempting to see the counter and catch what she was focused on. Ah. He smirked. Checks out.
Ochako dug into a carton of ice cream with a spoon.
“Boop.”
One scoop.
“Boop.”
Two.
“Boop.”
Three.
There was more shuffling in the kitchen as Ochako put the small carton of ice cream away. Brushing off some unseen dust from the white countertops, she then lifted the bowl and turned to face him.
Their eyes met.
“Katsuki!” she gasped, placing a hand to her chest as her heart rate accelerated. She didn’t expect to immediately meet his eyes when she turned around and it startled her. “How long were you watching me?”
“Only three today?”
“How did you… know…?” Ochako trailed off, glancing down at her bowl and back up at him. She tried to figure out how he could guess from such a low angle.
He shifted on the couch, squinting his eyes at her confusion. “Do you not know you make a fuckin’ noise when you sneak yourself ice cream?”
She blinked, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “I what?”
“Every time you drop a scoop of ice cream into the bowl you make a ‘boop’ noise for whatever fuckin’ reason.” A few seconds pass with no reaction. “Did you honestly not know that?”
Beyond the confused mortification she felt, the noise that had come out of her husband’s mouth was funny and adorably charming. So she laughed.
He gave her a sour look as she approached. “How am I the funny one here?”
“Can you tell me what noise I make again?” She leaned down to kiss the crown of his head. “Please?”
“Nope,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “You fuckin’ heard me, angel.”
Deciding to be difficult for the fun of it, Ochako slid in front of him and in between the couch and the coffee table, wiggling past in the tight space. She sat.
“You didn’t want any ice cream, right?” she asked with faux innocence, raising the spoon to her mouth. “Mmm…”
He rolled his eyes at her with a smirk. “You’re asking me this right fucking now? Would you actually get up and get me some if I asked?”
She thought about it for a beat too long. “Maybe.” His eyebrow rose. “What? I was thinking about sharing, but you don’t have to be a meanie about it.”
“Oi, oi…” he growled, leaning into her side. She began laughing quietly, wiggling away as if she was putting up a fight. He snaked his arms around her, tugging her closer. Their noses touched. “Boop.” She snorted again, her laughter getting louder.
“Do I really do that?”
“You wiggle when you’re happy or excited about food, too. It was dead giveaway. You’ve been doin’ it for years.”
Ochako scoffed with a small smile, “And here I thought I was being kinda sneaky.”
“It’s cute,” he grumbled, nudging her nose with his.
“Cute?”
Katsuki suddenly burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, glad to feel some of the stress from the week melting off of him just by contact alone. “M’yeah. I didn’t wanna tell you about it only to make it stop or for you to be self-conscious. That’d be fucked up.”
Ochako smiled, her heart flip-flopping in her chest. She dipped her spoon back into the bowl and held it around the area her husband’s mouth was supposed to be—a reward. She tried to take a peek but the angle was too sharp. He shifted, eating the ice cream off the spoon. He grunted his thanks before making himself cozy again.
Those old gossip hags could say whatever they wanted about him. He didn’t give a flying fuck as long as his wife was happy.
Married life was fucking great.