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Being a hero created a certain amount of unpredictability in Katsuki’s life, which he didn’t usually mind. Generally, he appreciated things that kept him on his toes.
Including his friendship with Uraraka (he supposed he could rightly call their relationship a “friendship,” given he was spending his break sitting atop a skyscraper eating hotdogs with her). Typically, having no idea what the hell was gonna come out of her mouth was charming, funny even, but there were times it left him feeling every bit as disoriented as her quirk.
Like right fuckin’ now; like when the widely beloved and popular Uravity looked him in the eye and said, “You should show off that cute face of yours,” as an answer to his question of how he could finally break the top twenty.
“Sorry, Bakugo,” she said, laughing at his flustered protest, kicking her legs out over 800 feet of open-air with the confidence of someone who could control gravity with her squishy, pink fingertips. “The cats out of the bag on that; the glamouroki incident let everyone know that you actively choose to look like a gremlin.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with my ranking!?”
“You just said you aren’t polling well with women!” He took an aggressive bite of his hotdog in response. “And I’m sure going viral for making that girl cry didn’t help.”
“It was a dangerous crime scene!” he countered.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she assured. “We were all telling her she had to leave.”
“But I made her cry,” he muttered bitterly.
“In front of her 175,000 followers,” mused Uraraka.
“I know, I was there,” he spat out. “No need to remind me.”
“While she was live- streaming for her vlog!” she continued, sipping her Bobba tea, decidedly unafraid of him, which wasn’t new, but still…would it kill her to at least pretend? “So, given all that, I’m simply suggesting you lean into your other assets.”
He scowled at her as she munched happily on her hot dog. She was always happy eating; which only had a miniscule impact on why he always had snacks on hand these days. “My pretty face?” he repeated, spitting the words out like battery acid.
“Oh, don’t make it sound so shallow.” He saw the beginning of that shit-eating grin, indicating she wasn’t done being a smartass. “You also have that teeny, tiny waist, giant hands, and…” she reached up and pushed his hair back. “This!”
His gaze shot up briefly to the pleasant press of her palm, to the relaxing pull of the hair caught between her fingers. “A forehead?” he deadpanned.
“Yup!” she said with an eager nod. “The public can have a little Dynamight forehead; as a treat. They’ll go feral, trust me!”
“And I want that?” She looked at him with a wicked, pointed grin. He made a sound of disgust. “You’re really telling me that I should use my body to poll better with women?”
She scoffed, unimpressed at his righteous indignation. “Puh-lease,” she drawled. “Women have been doing it for centuries. Just be grateful it’s not your tits.”
“Fair,” he conceded.
“Although…” she started, her tone devious and teasing, gaze dropping to his chest.
“NO!”
“Fine,” she sighed, demeanor turning serious as she shifted to face him. “Obviously, if being hot was all that mattered, you’d be set.” Well… shit . She needed to stop saying stuff like that…except he didn’t really want her to stop. “But you need more.”
“More than my forehead and tiny waist?”
“You’re overlooking a very important tool in your arsenal…” she paused dramatically, opening her eyes wide and pointing to them demonstratively. “The female gaze!”
Katsuki inhaled sharply. “I know I’m gonna regret asking,” he groaned. “But what the hell is that?”
She pursed her lips, brow furrowing. “Not sure! Jirou explained it to us last girls’ night, so I was a tad drunk,” she continued. “I think it has something to do with the way women are portrayed in media, but it’s also about…” she sputtered inelegantly as she tried to string her words together. “Like…what intrigues us …what we want to see and how we want to be seen. And you, my friend, need to tap into that!”
She threw her arm around his shoulder and gestured dramatically at the horizon. “Harness the power of the female gaze.” She fisted her hand as if grasping it. “Elitists may scoff, but women have the power to make or break a career.”
“I don’t think I’m built for that,” he grumbled.
“You are!” she insisted, stubbornly, almost pleading, as though she wanted to convince him of something. “You have a way of looking at people, of really seeing them.” Her voice was filled with warmth and tender affection. “For women, being seen as competent, as a fully capable equal, that’s... everything .” She let out a breathless sigh that made the moment feel more intimate than it likely was. “You saw me at UA, before anyone else did. You do that naturally, so just tap into that energy.”
He wondered if he should tell her that he, in fact, does not look at everyone that way. She was on a short list.
“Why the fuck are you even helping me, Cheeks?” he asked. “You forget I’m competition?”
She laughed, purposely theatrical in its hysterics, easily turning playful again. “You think of yourself as competition?” Her eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise. “Oh, sweet child.” She patted him on the shoulder placatingly. “Maybe I’ll start sweatin’ when you break top twenty, yeah?”
“Oh, fuck you, Uravity,” he said, definitely not amused. “When did you become such a cocky shit?”
She grinned smugly. “You must be rubbing off on me.”
Tch…he fuckin’ wished .
“But seriously,” she said, smiling at him in that way that flustered him without fail. “You’re always there for me when I need you, Bakugo.”
Was he?
He shared his food with her a lot, and he had intervened in a few uncomfortable fan interactions. Because if there was one area Uraraka struggled with, it was drawing boundaries with fans and civilians. He supposed that was the downside of her popularity.
Everybody loved Uravity.
And she loved them.
And it wasn’t just for show— that shit was sincere as hell.
Katsuki’s current working theory was that Uraraka’s quirk had evolved third year into some gravitational pull that rendered everyone fortunate enough to be in her orbit powerless to her. Sure, the more likely explanation was that she had fully stepped into her confidence, which, combined with her ability to make absolutely everyone around her feel genuinely safe and cared for, made everyone fall a little in love with her.
Including him.
Either way, he had stopped pretending he wasn’t a Uravity fanboy like every other extra out there.
“Seriously,” she added, looking out ahead of them. “You deserve for everybody to love you.” Her voice cut off at an odd place, like it wasn’t the intended end of the sentence, like she wanted to say more.
But that was hopeful thinking.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t completely done pretending.
###
It took a week for Ochako’s brilliant advice to bite her in the ass.
One week for Pro Hero Dynamight’s forehead to break the internet when someone snapped a photo of him, post-mission, sweaty and soot-covered, pushing his hair out of his face with his obscene fingers.
One week for 2.5 million thirsty-ass viewers to go rabid over a smoldering interview with his forearms oh-so-flatteringly on display.
One week for the world to lose their shit over a man she had long considered to be the most beautiful human in existence.
She sighed pathetically, her phone open to a gorgeous model’s Instagram story where the text “slide into my DMs and I’ll explode your Dynamight” scrolled across the picture of Bakugo.
Ochako shoveled four more mini-cookies into her mouth before returning them to the drawer, nearly choking when a voice snapped at her from the door.
“Why the fuck are you stress eating?!”
“I’m not!” she protested, crumbs spewing wildly. Bakugo rolled his eyes, his distracting body filling her door frame, arms crossing his equally-distracting chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked, wiping her mouth. “I’m usually the one comin’ around and bugging you.”
“Who said you were buggin’ me?” he asked with a devastating grin that made her knees go a little weak and, apparently, the internet go feral. “I actually came by because I figured your female gaze shit was annoyingly right on the money, and I got this request for an interview and photoshoot that I ain’t so sure about.”
Oh yes, a sexy photoshoot… that would certainly dampen the collective boner for Dynamight currently on the rise.
“With who?” she asked.
Bakugo’s nose scrunched in distaste. “Teen trend,” he answered, clearly embarrassed. “Sounds like some dumb…”
“Bakugo!” she interjected excitedly. “You have to do it!” He huffed but didn’t argue. “They have a huge teen girl and young adult women demographic! The staff is incredible, plus they’ve won several awards for their investigative journalism! It’s trendy and credible. Exactly what you want!”
“Well…” He closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, lip jutting out in that delightful pout. “Fuck.” He rolled his neck as though he were preparing for a battle. “I guess I won’t argue with the number 12 hero.” She hummed happily at his admission. “But don’t get cocky!”
“Hmmm…. What was that?” she asked, cupping her hand to her ear. “Couldn’t hear you on account of the gaping distance between us on those polls.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know what, I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said to you.”
“No, you don’t!” she called as he turned to leave. But he stopped, suddenly, turning back to her.
“You were stress eatin’...” he said, pointedly. “Gonna tell me why?”
“I’m… on my period!?” she offered lamely.
He held her gaze for a long moment, almost long enough to make her crack and tell him the truth, but, luckily, he broke first. “Fine,” he snorted. “Don’t tell me.”
She knew that was a bad lie; she and Bakugo had worked together long enough for him to know her cycle- he had even come through with spare products in her absent-minded moments.
She flopped pitifully into her chair and rubbed her face in distress.
She really hated lying to him.
###
At around 11 pm, Ochako came to the probably wrong-headed conclusion that she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she got all this shit between her and Bakugo out in the open.
Sure, it was a little petty that she was motivated by the deluge of thirst traps flooding Bakugo’s DMs. But it did help assuage her guilt a bit that these feelings were far from new. Hell, they hadn’t been strictly friendly since Bakugo made a very confusing appearance in a sex dream her third year.
The stubborn lingering of those feelings had to mean something, right?
That was the question that had her standing outside his apartment— a few hours past his usual bedtime. She took one fortifying breath, summoning every bit of heroic courage, and knocked.
She regularly faced death and still felt an immediate wave of terror. She was a good hero, and that confidence was hard-won. But everything was different with Bakugo. With him, she felt like she was in high school again; unsteady, breathless, heart-pounding as the sky rained down on top of her, caught in his sights and a few seconds from falling completely.
She inhaled sharply at the turn of the nob. When the door fully opened on someone who was definitely not Bakugo, she felt the floor drop beneath her feet.
“You’re not Dynamight!” pouted the near-naked woman before her, wearing barely-there lingerie of green and orange. “Where is he? I’ve been here for hours!”
Ochako choked on her words and, before the woman could see her cry, turned and hurried back to the elevator.
She was such an idiot.
Of course it had been her head.
The dam of emotions behind her eyes was about to burst when the elevator dinged, opening like a curtain on the unwitting source of her tears, looking sinfully good in a pair of fitted charcoal jeans and a black button-up that stretched tight across his torso.
He must have come straight from the interview.
“B-Bakugo!” she stammered, looking down abruptly. “What are you doing here?!”
He snorted. “I live here, dumbass.”
But his teasing dropped upon further inspection of her. Ochako tried to look away, to hide her distress, but his thumb and forefinger caught her chin, staying her as he tried to hunt down the source of her tears. “Why are you crying?” he demanded, a bite in his voice that was more comforting than it had a right to be.
“It’s nothing,” she answered, swallowing hard and reluctantly pulling away, attempting to move past him and into the elevator. “I was just leaving…”
“Uraraka.” He grabbed her forearm and held her in place. “What the hell is going on?”
Because he was Bakugo, there was a demand in his voice, and because she was Ochako, she was a brat about it. She jerked away. “I came to talk,” she snapped. “I didn’t know you had company.”
She knew she had no right to be upset with him or the woman in his apartment. He was free to screw whoever he wanted. But right now, the image of that woman fresh in Ochako’s mind, all she felt was anger and hurt. She would apologize later, but right now, she just needed to flee to the welcoming arms of the pint of ice cream in her freezer.
“What the hell are you talking about, Uraraka?” His genuine confusion tore a harsh, tear-riddled laugh from her. She had been so far off his radar that the thought that she may be upset about his conquests was baffling to him.
They weren't even in the same book, let alone the same page.
“Your guest,” she hissed. “The one in Dynamight lingerie.”
He opened his mouth to rebut but closed it suddenly. “There’s Dynamight lingerie?” he asked, suddenly derailed. “I didn’t approve that!”
She huffed and shoved him away so the elevator could close. “I’m sure your fangirl will convince you!”
“Would you knock that off!?” He grabbed the doors again and pushed them open. “Just talk to me, Uraraka! Because I have no idea what’s going on!”
Ochako froze suddenly at his words, eyes narrowing as a cold focus settled over her. “She’s…you…you didn’t know?”
“That there’s a strange woman in my apartment?” he asked, voice jumping a comical octave. “No.”
Ochako pursed her lips and nodded, an overwhelmingly protective surge rising inside of her. She cleared her throat and gave him a clenched, humorless smile. “One moment,” she said, shoving past him again.
Ochako had always struggled with boundaries when it came to civilians, desperately trying to remain palpable to keep the ranking she had worked her ass off for, the ranking that would make it possible for her parents to retire to the beach house she was planning to buy for their 30th anniversary.
She usually had trouble bringing a firm hand to anyone who wasn’t a villain. But she was sure, somehow, she would manage this time.
###
Katsuki watched- from the safety of his hallways, of course, because he did not have a death wish- and was struck by how surprisingly nice it felt.
At 6’2’, 230 pounds, people pretty much assumed Katsuki could fight his own battles, so it took him by surprise to see her red-faced and hopping mad, chewing out a damn civi, for him .
He liked it more than he thought he would.
“Aside from breaking and entering being an actual crime you can be arrested for,” Uraraka yelled, as she shoved the woman into the hallway, “this is also sexual harassment! Not cool!” A bag was tossed across the threshold at the feet of the intruder, followed by a coat and pants. “Dynamight didn’t consent to seeing you naked! It wouldn’t be okay for a man to show up uninvited to your apartment with his dick out, and it’s not okay for you!”
“Please,” drawled the woman, still standing in the hallway with the brazen confidence of someone who rarely heard no. “Who wouldn’t want to come home to…” A sweater slapped against her face, cutting her off.
“Go home and reconsider your life choices!” demanded Uraraka. “Before I arrest you myself!”
The woman turned toward Katsuki, clearly expecting him to intervene. He snorted and jerked his head toward the elevator. “You heard Uravity,” he said simply, not wanting to clutter up this glorious moment with his own words.
She sneered hatefully at his dismissal. “Fine, your loss!”
She stomped down the hall, holding her clothes, only stopping to throw a middle finger over her shoulder before stepping into the elevator. When the elevator door dinged shut, Katsuki turned to Uraraka with a shit-eating grin.
“What?” she snapped.
“Just a little insulted.” He stepped past her and into his apartment. “You really thought I’d screw a fangirl?”
She scowled at him, lingering in his doorway. “I wouldn’t know,” she huffed. “You’ve never had them!”
“But, thanks to you,” he started, probably more cocky than the moment called for. “I have plenty now.” He gestured toward his table, overflowing with gifts and fanmail.
Uraraka glared venom-tipped daggers at the display. “Well,” she said, voice clipped. “ I’ll leave you to enjoy!”
“Don’t be a brat.” He snatched her hand and pulled her back into his apartment before she could leave. She jerked away, a fresh sheen of tears magnifying her eyes.“Why are you crying?” he demanded for the second time.
“I’m angry!”
“Angry?” he repeated, looking at her skeptically.
“And hurt,” she admitted, throwing her arms up in resignation. “Is that what you want to hear, Katsuki? My feelings were hurt! You had a hot naked girl in your apartment, and it hurt my feelings, okay!”
He stepped toward her and, despite her exhausted state, she held his gaze stubbornly, always braver than him. He always looked away first.
Not this time.
“What are you sayin’, Uraraka?” The air thickened as the distance between them minimized. “I can’t read your mind.”
“How many ways can I possibly tell you that you’re one of my favorite people?!” she asked, desperate and ragged as she tried to shove him away. He didn’t move this time. She looked briefly at the point of contact between her tentative hands and his chest, like she was deciding whether she should move them.
She didn’t.
“Plus, I flirt with you all the time,” she offered. “At least I thought so.”
“You flirt with everyone.” He held tighter to her hands, unwilling to let go of her when she was so close. “Just last week, you told Icy Hot and I quote, ‘you’re not a snack, you’re a whole-ass buffet.’”
“I was trying to get him hyped for his date with Deku,” she protested. “And it worked!”
“My point is, you make everyone feel special, Cheeks.” But nothing in his tone indicated it was a bad thing. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you felt more than that?”
“Well, I do!” she insisted, a hint of brattiness in her voice as she tapped her fingers absently against his chest. “And for the record, I don’t want half-naked people in your apartment, but if that’s gonna be your new brand, then tell me, because...” She let out a squeak when his lips found hers, but after a few seconds, she melted into him, like she had been waiting just as long as him, though he couldn’t imagine that. He could hardly believe that this was happening at all; that he was touching her, holding her, tasting her.
It was hard to believe because everyone loved Uravity, after all.
“Because what?” he asked, hovering just above her mouth, reluctant to break away but interested in what she was going to say.
She sighed brokenly against his lips as she spoke, “B-because I’ll just have to start preparing myself to drop in the polls because I’m gonna go viral for making at least one of ‘em cry when I kick them out.”
“You gonna be my protective detail, Ochako, now that I’m hot and popular?”
Her hands slid up his shoulders to his cheeks, looking at him with aching sincerity. “Always, Katsuki.” She guided his face down to hers, impatient for a second kiss.
She was smart, and funny, and sexy, and strong, and she made everyone around her feel better with a smile. That was the side that most people got to see, so of course they loved her.
But Katsuki was starting to think that this side— the protective, jealous, bratty, throw-a-civilian-out-on-their-ass side— maybe that part was even better.
And maybe that side was only for him.