Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been the happiest moment of her life and she would never forget the warm hugs her parents gave her as they saw her off to her new life in the heart of the city of Tokyo. At the tender age of twenty-seven, Momo could confidently say she had found her dream job and wouldn’t change it for the world.

She wouldn’t change her colleagues either. As much as drama unfolded in varies shapes and forms, these people were like her second family.

“Urgh, my tablet is acting up again,” Uraraka complained. Momo glanced over to her work space which was directly adjacent to hers.

Like everyone in this business, those who worked on concept art were put in different groups of up to four and were given their own work room which in turn had different work stations they could decorate as they wished. They hardly ever had to change groups so these rooms were classed their their very own until further notice.

Uraraka’s desk was an assorted mix of frills, lace and explosions of pastels. The large wooden desk was sanded down and was an earthy brown with paper strewn across it and balls of crumpled up designs spilled from the paper waste basket next to it.

Each desk had the same facilities. A large digital tablet which they could put forward their final designs, a separate desk they could turn to in their swivel chair to quickly sketch something before the idea left their mind, and attached to the back of the desk was a towering pin board they could use to put up all the ideas to create a moodboard of sorts. It was the perfect place for creative minds such as them.

Uraraka huffed and leant down so she could rest her chin on the desk and look at her tablet with acute disdain. Momo leant back in her chair a little, a drawing pen held loosely in her hand and a black artist glove covering her ring and pinky finger. She craned her head and saw that Uraraka’s screen was glitching, the screen going green and blue quickly, flickering.

This wasn’t an odd occurrence. Nearly once a month Uraraka’s tablet had something wrong with it. Momo was surprised it hadn’t full broken yet but it seems that time had finally come. She chuckled and went back to her own drawing.

Soft music was playing in the background, recent pop music from the radio with jingles every now and then between songs to tell them the time or of breaking/recent news. It was currently three-thirty and they still had an hour and a half of work left before they were free to go. That didn’t mean they always left, however. they all had a habit of staying behind longer than they had to if only to finish something quickly.

Uraraka sighed again when no one said anything and leant back in her chair. The movement cause it to roll out from her area and she ended up in the middle of the room, looking disheartened. Her chocolate brown hair was styled as usual, flat ironed and thick, and she wore a simple white cotton dress with a brown belt and brown flats. A pretty modest style but her conceptual work was anything but.

Momo had come to learn pretty quickly that Uraraka’s clothing designs were dubbed ‘baby-doll’ and were typically aimed at middle-aged women or even those in their twenties and they were usually large bell skirts and dresses with frilly socks and mary jane boots. A cute, innocent lolita style, shall we say? Momo had never seen her wear her own design before so she wagered Uraraka mainly enjoyed designing them, not wearing them herself.

That was a far cry from Momo’s own style which was aimed at professional men and women. Her clothes normally consisted of tan colours, blacks, whites and the occasional pastle. Suits were a main focus of hers. She just loved the ways the different parts mixed together to create a full outfit. Her favourite design as of late was a pure white suit with a dark red shirt the colour of wine and a snow tie which reached under an equally white waistcoat.

Of course, she designed suits for both men and woman, she didn’t see any reason why women couldn’t wear them. She herself was wearing a navy blue waistcoat over a crisp white shirt with the top few buttons underdone showing her collarbone. The shirt was tucked into a blue pencil skirt and her blue flats has been discarded. her feet skid across the wooden floor in nothing but skin coloured tights. Her charcoal hair was held up in a messy bun with strands curling around her face. There was a half empty mug of coffee next to her work with a protective lid over the top so she didn’t ruin anything if she accidently toppled it.

“You sure it isn’t because you’ve been putting all your weight on it like usual?” Came a gruff voice behind Momo.

All at once, Uraraka’s pouting stopped and her chair spun as she rounded on the blond-haired man who was leaning over his own work, an artist glove only covering his pinky. “You calling me fat?”

“Well I ain’t calling you skinny, that’s for sure.”

“Nice. Really nice. You’re a gentleman, you know that, right Bakugo?”

Bakugo snorted and looked up from his work. “I’ve been told that a few times, yes. Why, you interested?” He cocked one blond brow and eyed Uraraka with eyes the colour of cherries.

Mirroring him, Uraraka chuckled without mirth and rolled her chair back to her desk. “Never in a million years,” she said, shaking her head. Despite her words, Momo noticed a small blush creeping on the woman’s cheeks.

“Worth the try,” Bakugo shrugged before putting his pen back to the digital screen.

Bakugo was the other person who worked here. Momo had known them both since she started working here - at it turned out, all three of them got to know each other and joined this firm around the same time so they had - in a sense - grew up together in the working world. Uraraka was the youngest amongst them at twenty-five and Bakugo only just won as oldest as he edged twenty-eight.

Much like the two women, Bakugo had his own style when it came to clothing and it was very… loud, to put it bluntly in Momo’s opinion. He favoured explosive colours like neon oranges and greens with spashings of pinks and blues. He liked creating clothes that people would look at, gawk at, marvel at. He didn’t tend to dress like it, however.

Today he wore a simple black and white checkered shirt with grey jeans and sneakers. Not very professional but in this line of work you didn’t need to dress as such. It was a personal choice.

In contrast to Uraraka’s desk, Bakugo’s was very simple and didn’t really allude to the idea that anyone actually worked there. Only really close people would have been able to figure out that it was his place of solitude and comfort. There were little coffee stains on the wooden table and the work that was pinned on the board was colour coded very specifically that if even one pin was misplaced, the anger that would ensue was terrible.

Bakugo wasn’t one to get angry at nothing, however. He had admitted that his time at school wasn’t the best use of his time as he was, in his words, an asshole, but now he was better and knew how to control his anger. He was a pretty nice person but tended to piss people off as a sport. He meant no harm by it.

Uraraka tried to turn her tablet off and then on again, as though that would resolve the issue and she whined unhappily when it kept flickering and the screen froze.

“Momo, I need help,” she groaned. “It keeps crashing on me whenever I open a new document and my pen isn’t actually drawing where I want it to. It’s doing the exact opposite that I ask it to.” She rolled back in her chair and kicked her feet back and forth as she looked over to Momo.

The black-haired woman sighed and put her pen down, regarding Uraraka sadly. “There isn’t much I can do to help, Uraraka, but I can email Midoriya if you’d like? I’m sure he’d be able to sort something out for you… like he does every week.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault this tablet is faulty.”

“It’s not faulty, you’re just not taking care of it like you should. Is that a milkshake stain I see?” Bakugo teased, pretending to lean forward to see her desk when he was too far away to actual make anything out.

Uraraka flushed and her eyes flashed. “Shut up!” Bakugo chuckled and Uraraka faced Momo again. “Can you get Midoriya? That would be great! Thanks Momo!”

“Don’t mention it.” Momo smiled as she turned on her Mac laptop and tapped out a quick email to the technician who was in charge of their division.

This happened all the time and Momo had gotten used to it. She had the privilege of emailing anyone and everyone they needed and had no qualms with doing people favours. Both Uraraka and Bakugo had learnt not to take the micky, however. Momo could be quite… strict when she felt like she was being taken for granted.

It only took a few minutes but the technician was there in a jiffy, his usual box of tools at his side.

Izuku Midoriya was possibly the nicest person Momo had ever had the honour of meeting and the boy was very very skilled at what he did… which was probably why he was the head technician at the fashion firm they all worked at. Momo felt a little bad that he was always caught up in Uraraka’s issues, however. He never seemed to be annoyed by it—if anything, he enjoyed being here.

Dark green hair curled around his soft looking cheeks scattered with freckles as he looked over Uraraka’a tablet, his lips pursed and glasses perched high on the bridge of his nose. Eventually, he sighed and stood up, folding his arms and regarding Uraraka with stern eyes.

Yes, he was the nicest person Momo knew but he was also the most no-nonsense person she had ever met.  

“You’ve been pressing on it too hard, Uraraka. That’s the only conclusion I can come to as to why it’s not working. It’s a pretty sensitive screen and pressing down on it isn’t a good thing to do. I thought it was written down in the manule when we ordered them…?”

“Yeah, like Pink-cheeks would read the goddamn manual. You should know that by now, Deku,” Bakugo perked up, his head of spiky blond hair peeking up from his pin board as he peered over the top of it.

Uraraka’as mouth gaped open as she looked ot Bakugo. He wasn’t the only one with something to say, however...

“I suppose I should, she’s never been one for reading, has she?” Midoriya said, nodding and putting a finger to his lips.

“Hey! I can hear you and you’re both right in front of me!”

Momo found herself giggling as she tried to concentrate on her own work but her hand was shaking too much in her mirth. She put her pen down and turned in her chair to watch as Uraraka flailed her arms around like a child and her bottom lip jutted out. Midoriya had a knuckle placed to his mouth as he chuckled and Bakugo was smirking from where he was leaning over his own pin board.

“Then close your ears. We need to trash talk you some more,” he said, cocking his head. Uraraka’s cheeks puffed out.

“You’re so mean. Both of you.”

Midoriya's smile slipped and he took a step back, eyes widening with confusion. “W - What? Uraraka, I didn’t do anything—”

“Yeah you did, don’t lie. You’re just as much as an asshole as me,” Bakugo interrupted, tone humourous and low.

“Kacchan… shut up.”

“Oi Square up. I’ll throw this entire monitor at you I swear-”

Before Bakugo could direct his teasing towards Midoriya instead, the greenette squared his shoulders and ignored the blond as he addressed Uraraka with seriousness.

“Anyway, Uraraka. I would suggest you use something else in the meantime. Maybe Kaminari’s tablet? He hasn’t been here in a while has he… where did he go again?” He looked over at the desk which had been cleared a few months ago. It was next to Bakugo’s and was right in front of the massive window that allowed bright light to filter through.

Their office was moderately high up in the towering building they worked at and as a result, the sunrises and sunsets were pretty magnificent. But sometimes they were a pain in the ass as the beams of light made looking at their digital screens a nightmare. Momo had bought a set of curtains to draw over it when it got too much to the delight of her two colleagues.

“He’s on an exchange program in the next city over. He’s still a student remember?” Momo answered him. “Once he’s finished his training he’ll come back here and work full time with us.” She paused before she looked to Uraraka who seemed pretty helpless. “I’m sure he won’t mind you using his tablet while he’s gone, Uraraka. Just make sure not to break it… like you broke your own it seems.”

“Yeah and while you do, I’ll take your tablet and see what I can do about fixing it!” Midoriya exclaimed happily.

Uraraka seemed to deflate a little as she looked over her pin board and the colourful expanse of her desk. She exhaled before nodded dejectedly.

“... I guess. Welp, I better start moving my stuff to the other desk then. It was fun working beside you Momo, but now I take my leave,” she said. Momo rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be all dramatic, we’re still going to be in the same room.”

“She’s just salty because that means she’ll have to work next to me now,” Bakugo piped up, a chuckle in his voice.

“No! That has nothing to do with it!” Uraraka said.

“So you have no problem with me making fun of your weight then?”

“Urgh! You’re such a clod. I'm self conscious about my weight, okay?”

“Then here’s an idea…. stop eating so much?”

The brunette made a growl of annoyance as she stood and begrudgingly started to collect her papers and folders so she could transfer to the other desk. At Bakugo’s words, Momo rose a brow. Though she was smiling too, she knew this was going a little too far.

“That’s a little mean, Bakugo.”

Bakugo rose both his hands in defense, a pen still clenched in one hand. “Chill, it’s just a joke. You’re not fat, Uraraka. if you were, I would be a lot more mean. You’re just… curvy. Is that the right word?”

Uraraka put down the folder on the desk beside him and paused, silent for a while. Eventually she sniffed and mumbled.

“... Better than chubby I guess.”

“Come on. Chubby is cute!” He effused.

“Did you just call me cute?” Uraraka said, bouncing back as her frown swiveled into a devious smirk and she cocked her head at him. Brown locks tumbled past her shoulder.

It was evident that this had never happene to Bakugo before; someone retorting with something equally as teasing and evasive. A red blush flamed across his entire face and he stuttered, failing to speak coherently. His tone was a little higher than normal and Momo noticed that his strawberry-red eyes had widened.

“What - No! Don’t twist my words like that.”

Uraraka laughed maliciously, throwing her head back at Bakugo’s awkwardness. She was an… interesting character, Momo had come to understand. Her emotions seemed to flicker pretty quickly but she was always one to bounce back and be positive which was refreshing and a change from what was a normally grim world.

She wasn’t fat in any way shape or form for that matter. She had ample breasts which she didn’t flaunt and her thighs were thick in a sense that she could crush you with them if she so wished. If anything, the word chubby was appropriate but in an adorable way that complimented her soft cheeks and bubble butt.

About that, Momo had noticed Bakugo looking at Uraraka’s rear more than once and had stifled her smile. She knew full well something was going on but as any nice private citizen, she kept it to herself.

As Uraraka kept moving her stuff over to Kaminari’s old desk and kept teasing Bakugo over his still flushed face, Midoroya made quick work of unplugging her drawing tablet from the main power supply and wrapping it in a protective film as he took to his own workshop for repairs.

The day ticked by minute by minute and the clouds smothered the sun, dimming the light in the room before Bakugo eventually sighed and turned on the lights. Florescent light spilled from the bulbs overhead and there was a deep rumble as rain began to patter outside not long after.

Uraraka had gotten herself comfortable at the new desk but hadn’t yet started sketching and instead just scrolled on her phone for a bit. As soon as the sound of thunder split through the air, she swiveled round in her chair and looked out the window, smiling widly. She loved rain, especially the smell that it brought—unfortunatly for her, Bakugo hated rain and wouldn’t let her crack the window open no matter how much she begged him.

The day was getting darker (and wetter) and Momo looked at the time in the corner of her computer screen and exhaled heavily when she saw it was quarter to five. Only fifteen minutes before she could go home…

There was a ding and her attention snapped to her email tab where she saw she had gotten a new one. She opened the tab and quickly read through it, not fazed by the fact it was from their boss. After reading through it once, her eyes widened and a smile slowly spread on her face.

“Ah, I just got an email from Aizawa! My drawings have made the final cut and are being put forward for design… He says my ideas may be featured on the red carpet later this year!”

Both Bakugo and Uraraka cheered for her, smiling at her achievement and she felt pride bloom hotly high on her cheeks.

“Congrats, Momo! I’m happy for you!” Uraraka exclaimed, swiveling in her chair and clapping her hands. Beside her, Bakugo smiled and inclinced his head.

“Shit man, that’s great. Did you wanna go out to celebrate or something? It’s on me,” he offered.

Momo smiled at them both before shaking her head.

“Thank you, Bakugo but that’s quite all right. I really would like to go home and get some of my outstanding work done. This may be a good thing but it doesn’t mean I can drop all my other work.”

“It’s chill. I’ll just save it for when we get our next bonus. Then we can really blow out,” Bakugo said, earning himself a clap from Uraraka and a chuckle from Momo.

After a few minutes of playful chatter, Momo had gotten all of her belongings together. She had slipped her shoes on and had put her multiple folders into a plain tote bag alone with spare sheets of concept work and a few fine-liners. Just as she was shrugging on her coat which was fur lined, Uraraka let her chair roll out in the middle of the room and she waved at Momo enthusiastically.

“See you tomorrow, Momo! Please sleep well and don’t overwork yourself. I say that to Midoriya all the time but he never listens. Please don’t be the same as him!” She exclaimed. Her chocolate-brown eyes glimmered. Momo smiled softly at her concern and reassured her not to worry.

“Don’t worry, Uraraka, I’ll make sure to get as much as sleep as I can. Thank you both. See you tomorrow.”

And then she slung her bag over her shoulder, readjusting the hood of her coat and pulling on a pair of grey gloves. She looked out to the window and grimanced a little when she saw the torriel floods of rain as it fell down the large window panes. She had failed to buy a bus ticket this morning so she would have to walk. Great.

She took one more sad look to the window knowing she was going to end up soaked by the time she returned back to her apartment complex before she bid goodbye once more to her collegues. Bakugo only grunted and rose one hand and waved as he continued drawing.

“See ya.”

And Uraraka waved vehemently.

“Bye!”

In a moment of time, Momo was out of the work firm, having signed out and putting her cards into her tote bag. She braved the cold, rain pelting down on the hood she had pulled firmly across her head. Despite everything, the rain thrashed against her legs, drenching them and leaving her trembling as she hurried home. She was cluching the top of the bag, making sure none of her work within got ruined.

The sun was completely covered with dark sprawling clouds, grey, black and ominous and the droplets of rain that fell were like glistening bullets, brutishly cold and icy. The street lights had already been turned on, being light sensitive to the environment and orange flooded the streets of Tokyo which were still bustling with life. Countless people walked by each other, minding their own business and trying to get out of the rain. Many business men were using their briefcases as a protection from the rain and Momo noticed a few students still in uniform cowering under umbrellas.

The main street was becoming more and more crowded as people left school and work. Luckily for Momo, her apartment was loctaed in an area where she needed to take a detour in a quieter area of the city.

As soon as she saw the opportunity, she slinked into a small alleyway where it was a little more sheltered and she could finally hear herself think. The alley was thin enough that not even a car could get through and there was hardly any decoration outside of the buildings—just doorways and flat windows with the curtains drawn.

That was the thing with Tokyo. So many people lived here and as such, so many buildings needed to be crammed in a small area. That was why Momo loved apartments. They could house so many people but still seemed big enough that you could have a large area to yourself and not feel cramped.

Rain pattered rather than hammered down on her now and she let out a heavy breath. Just a few more minutes before she arrived home and she could change in pajamas and finish some of her work. Then this would repeat all over again. Hopefully it wouldn’t be raining quite as much, however. There was a rumble of thunder and Momo winced, the noise piercing through her.

She wasn’t afraid of thunder but the noise was still a shock.

But then something happened that changed her life forever.

There was a little meow through all the rain and Momo paused, musing whether she had lost her mind to hear a cat through all the rain. She furrowed one brow, stopping entirely as she waited for the sound again.

Another meow.

“What in the world…” She mumbled before she rounded the corner and there, on the top of a brick wall, trying to find shelter beneath a large bush that was spilling over the top of the wall, was a cat, positively drenched. It meowed again and her lips parted in symapthy.

“Oh you poor thing.” She approached the cat, noticing that it was indeed a cat and wasn’t a kitten. it was much too large. But what she noticed second was its fur. Instead of the usual tabby or block coloured cat you found around the streets of Tokyo, this one was unlike any she had ever seen.

It was two-toned, perfectly white with bright red patches. one red patch was around its left eye and its tail was wrapped uselessly around its frame. The tip was just as red as the patches that adorned itis drenched fur. It meowed again, not going closer to her now further away. Momo wagered it was too tired and cold to make a proper decision or to even think properly.

Her bag was still slung over her shoulder but she slowly unzipped her coat, the cold of the night billowing against the open buttons of her shirt and she grimanced, trying her best to ignore her own discomfort. The cat looked up at her and seemed to cock its head in confusion as she appraoched it and put out both her hands as an invitation. It didn’t move an inch.

That’s when she noticed something else. Its eyes were completely different colours. Soft grey and piercing blue. It was so memorising and she found herself breathless. She had never found herself so taken with a cat and yet here she was.

Rain still fell down upon them but she ignored it as it wet her hair and fell down her face, making her mascara run a little. The cat seemed to cower even more, its tail twisting around its frail form as it curled more upon itself under the protection of the bush. It stared at her, as though waiting for her to do something. There was an almost human questioning in its eyes.

All Momo could do was stare at it, mesmerised and astonished by its beauty and the coincidence of their meeting. She had no idea why she stopped for this cat. Of her entire life living in Tokyo City, she had seen countless cats and she had never stopped for them… but there was just something about this one. The human-like thought in its eyes, the tenderness of its mewls and the vulnurable way it tried to keep itself out of the rain. She felt hooked to it. She couldn’t leave it.

A struck of thunder and an even heavier bout of rain purged her of her thoughts and she shook her head. Droplets of water flew from her hair and her hands shook with the cold, a deep aching pain settling into her flesh.

Without wasting another secod, she surged forward and clasped her hands around the cats midsection. Its fur was completely saturated with rain and she felt her heart ache for it as she drew it close to her chest. Its limbs hung limply as she tucked it against her chest and used one of her arms to support its lower half against her. She could feel its cold fur seep into her shirt but she could also feel its warmth. It seemed abnormal… but at least it was still healthy.

The cat meowed again but showed no sign of struggle as she clumsily zipped up her coat around the cat and hurried her way home, much faster and more urgent this time. Another roar of thunder jolted her into a fast walk and she felt the cat’s wet nose press against her neck and its breath waver against her collarbone.

Why did she do this? What made her so connected to this cat?

So many questions but not enough time to think them through, she made her way to her apartment complex and a sigh of relief slipped past her lips as she opened the massive double doors to the landing. It was silent and dark—her landlord must still be at work if he hasn’t already locked the doors. She wagered there was no one around to scold her for bringing an animal into the establishment.

She could feel the cat’s thrumming heartbeat against her own chest and a warming sense of comfort overwhelmed her as she made her way to her apartment, using the elevator. The cat hadn’t made a sound since she entered the apartment complex. Maybe it was just too cold for it?

And she rectified that as quickly as she could. As soon as she had entered her apartment, only just managing to unlock the door without dropping the vulnerable cat, she dried it as best she could and made a makeshift bed for it on her couch which she stayed on for the majority of the night, making sure it was okay.

The cat had fell asleep almost instantly and she had resisted the urge to pet it. Not now. She didn’t know whether it trusted her or not enough for that. She smiled down at it softly, not knowing exactly what she had gotten herself into.

Now knowing that this had been the best decision of her entire life. With the room filled with the cat’s gentle snores, she slept easy that night, her fingers inches away from its soft-looking fur.