Plus One   von Kroko
                              (Bakugou / Ochako)
================================================================================
                              Kapitel 1: Peonies
                              ------------------


By now there’s no way around it: Deku is avoiding her.

It’s been two, maybe three hours since Ochako set foot into the opulent hotel
lobby. She’s talked to every single one of what must be over a hundred guests,
to most even twice. But after the short mumbled greeting, an awkward wave and a
sheepish smile, Deku has consistently been at the exact opposite end of every
room Ochako has found herself in.

It’s been a warm summer day, and it’s only now, in the evening, that the
first cool breeze wafts through the open patio doors into what seems more like a
congress hall for a floristics convention than the premises for a wedding party.
The large white curtains are billowing in the wind, and the scent of flowers
mixes with that of wet earth and freshly cut grass.

And even though all her friends are here, Ochako is fighting a rising feeling of
loneliness, surrounded on all sides by silky white tablecloths, fancy
lace-trimmed table runners and the rosy smell of pink peonies.

“Sooo, how about you?”, Mina asks, for the second time today, pointedly
innocuous. She looks gorgeous, her burgundy dress form fitting and on the verge
of stealing the bride’s shine. Not that anyone could really hold it against
her, because she’s just delightful like that.

“Hm?” Ochako pretends she didn’t listen in hopes Mina will let it go like
she did about an hour ago. Unfortunately, Mina is as persistent as she is
pretty.

“Gotta admit, Midoriya and Melissa tying the knot kinda hit me out of
nowhere.” She makes a pause for Ochako to react, which she doesn’t. “But
you know what I really don’t get? How come you haven’t found the right one
yet?”

She asks, as if she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. As if she expects
Ochako to ignore the way her eyes dart over to Deku before the question is even
finished.

Ochako shrugs her most blithe shrug and smiles. “Work’s keeping me really
busy lately!”

She’s never minded being on her own. She’s had partners, and then she
didn’t, and then she had a partner again. Neither being in a relationship nor
being single had ever been a big deal to her. It’s only the way she’s being
made to feel as if she’s sitting on the hot seat ever since she arrived here
that makes her uncomfortable.

“Oh sweetie, don’t do me like that!”, Mina exclaims in mock despair.
“I’m starting to get worried about you! I’m watching all my girls getting
married off left and right…”, she gestures in the direction of Kyouka,
Tsuyu, Momo, accompanied by their partners, some even by their kids, “and I
just cannot accept you staying all alone!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!” Ochako puts as much emphasis on her words
as she can without raising her voice, or breaking her smile. Her face feels
strained. Not because she has to fake looking happy. She is happy!

Mina nods understandingly, as if Ochako’s just admitted to needing time to
process the sudden death of a family member. “You know, you can always come to
me if you need to talk, right?”, Mina offers. In that exact second, Eijirou
stumbles over, plates with cake in his hands and his legs circled by two
giggling and screeching toddlers with dark pink, fluffy hair who seem very
intent on keeping him from reaching his destination. “Hey, hon!”, he says, a
desperate plea in his voice, as he holds up the plates like an olympic torch.
“A little help…?”

Mina hasn’t even gotten up yet when one of the kids stumbles, falls and hits
his knee. Surprised by the pain, he immediately breaks into tears, and starts
oozing what looks like thick acid from his skin. “Oh no!”, Mina sighs, picks
up the kid to keep him from destroying the rug, her own acid neutralizing that
of her son. “Come here, baby, it’s alright.”

Within a second, half a dozen waiters show up with cleaning gear, and while
Eijiriou bows and apologizes to everyone around for the mess, Ochako uses the
ruckus to slip away unseen.

She’s into her second glass of champagne now. She’s kept herself from
resting her head on her hand twice now, reminding herself instead to sit up
straight and make a face as if she’s just taking a break from all the riveting
conversations. Absent-mindedly, her fingers play with her place card. It reads,
in a very neat and curved and decidedly un-Deku handwriting: Ochako. Melissa
must have written it. Next to her table card sits another one. It says: Katsuki.
The corresponding guest is also situated next to Ochako, and as always, he cares
way less about appearances.

He’s leaning all the way back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him
and exuding his usual standoffish aura that makes everyone in a 10 foot radius
avoid their table. Ochako doesn’t mind. She’s grateful for the privacy.

There’s another reason for her gratitude though. She knows it’s a bit
selfish, but she did fear she’d end up being the only one without a plus one
at the entire party.

She doesn’t care about Mina’s needling, or Aoyama’s allusions, or Momo’s
sympathetic smile when she softly puts a hand on Ochako’s shoulder and tells
her to stay strong. But it’s different from how it used to be when they were
all in school. They’re not a group of friends anymore. They are little family
units, always busy, always distracted. And Ochako doesn’t blame them, taking
care of kids is a full time job, especially if they are in the process of
developing super powers. Ochako is happy for each and every one of them. Still,
it’s hard not to feel like the odd one out.

It’s moments such as these that you need Katsuki Bakugou next to you. Even
better, quite literally in the same boat as you. He seems more stoic, or rather
serious, than Ochako remembers. There’s something unusually sober about the
way he’s sitting quietly, leaning back in his chair with his hands holding
onto his elbows. Only his grim frown betrays that something is simmering beneath
the surface. Maybe he doesn’t even feel much different than she does, and the
thought makes her feel simultaneously embarrassed and vindicated.

She was surprised to see him here at all. Honestly, nobody really expected him
to show up. Not after the way he reacted to the engagement. But Bakugou is
anything if not good for a surprise. And he’s behaving, for the most part.
Except for the fact that since his arrival, he’s been staring daggers at Deku
from the word go. Which is probably one of the reasons why Deku is avoiding him
as well.

And it’s a lot easier to feel bitter for Bakugou, than for herself.

He is the other person she has not exchanged more than two words with, which has
been a decidedly awkward affair, considering they’ve been seated next to each
other. After finding solidarity in their solitariness, Ochako decides it’s
time to break the ice.

“I always pictured Deku’s wedding differently”, she states, and picks up
one of the plush peonies from a bouquet right in front of her. Not that she
expected Deku to deck out the entire hall in hero geekery. But she did expect
some of his passions shining through. She peeks over at him through a gap in the
crowd. He’s in the process of talking to Eri, who’s had quite the growth
spurt in the last couple years. Of course he looks maddeningly handsome, his
hair coiffed, his shoulders broad in the perfectly fitting suit, his smile as
radiant as ever, and his cheeks tan and freckled from the last couple weeks in
America. Even his tie sits in a proper knot around his neck. That last part
makes the image slightly unnerving.

Ochako gives the blossom in her hand a sniff. The silky petals tickle her nose
and she sneezes.

Bakugou shoots the flower a sour look. “It’s Melissa,” he states gruffly.
“She’s one of those girls who had her wedding planned since she was four.
And of course doormat Deku goes along with everything.”

Ochako makes a little “oh” sound as a response. It suddenly hits her that
the decor reminds her of the old timey fairy tale cartoons from America she used
to watch as a kid.

“Goes to show how little I talk to Melissa!”, Ochako picks up the thread in
a pointedly upbeat tone. “I really need to get to know her better.”

“Don’t see the point in that, what with them pissing off back to the U.S.
tomorrow.” Bakugou is glowering back at Deku now. He seems to be dead set on
letting nothing brighten his mood. 

Not that Ochako can really blame him. It’s been almost a year since Deku left,
and they received barely so much as a note from him. The invitation to the
wedding had been the first contact Ochako could recall in months. Deku picked up
work overseas, following in All Might’s footsteps. It’s how he met Melissa
again, who’s worked hard for her chair at the I-Island Academy. From what
Ochako’s heard, Deku teaches there too every once in a while, and the two
collaborate on the improvement of support items for both people with and without
quirks.

Ochako recalls holding his letter, the typical way the handwriting at times
turned more scrawly at passages that had seen Deku getting emotional. In his
letter, Deku talked about how he sees his time overseas as a traineeship on how
to better serve the people, and that when he was to return to Japan in about a
year, he would be an even better hero.

For now though, he’s only returned for the week, to prepare and celebrate the
wedding, and like Bakugou said, Deku and Melissa are about to head back
tomorrow. No news on Deku’s plans to move back to Japan either.

The stem of the flower snaps in Ochako’s hand. She hastily tries to shove it
back into the bouquet without anyone noticing. There are so many flowers in
there that she can squeeze the blossom literally anywhere without it making much
of a difference.

She sighs. Sitting around and moping is getting old, she decides, gets up, and
returns with two more glasses of champagne she got from one of the waiters
holding trays that are positioned all over the shop. She offers Bakugou one of
the glasses with a smile. “Please do me the favor and join me in getting drunk
off this stuff.”

Bakugou accepts the glass, actually looking her in the eyes for the first time
tonight, his brows raised. The champagne sparkles in the elegant little glass as
Bakugou takes the smallest sip from it. “Believe me, none of us wanna find out
what happens if I get smashed tonight”, he says, and puts the glass back onto
the table slowly and measuredly.

That’s a surprising amount of restraint he’s displaying, and for a moment
Ochako feels almost bad about showing her cards. Maybe him being here despite
everything really is just his way of paying respects. He’s even wearing a
fancy looking suit, and even though it’s a bit crinkly right now because
he’s slouching in his chair a bit, Ochako can tell that it probably fits him
really well.

She stretches her arms out in front of herself. “Welp!”, she says, noticing
too late that she’s probably too loud. “At least the dance’s about to
start soon! Are you looking forward to that?” Of course she knows he’s not.
And he knows she knows he’s not. But that’s beside the point. The point is
that it’s entertaining to get Bakugou’s goat. And of course Bakugou
delivers. He pulls his upper lip over his teeth as if he’s smelled something
absolutely vile and growls: “Wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at fucking
Deku’s fucking wedding.”

Two f-bombs, Ochako thinks. So he really is pissed.

Like the ocean washes the edges off broken glass fragments and transforms them
into beautiful colorful pebbles, time and fading puberty have turned Bakugou
into a mostly functioning adult. But sometimes he does still remind her of the
defiant little brat she met all these years ago. It’s simultaneously
bewildering and comforting, especially with how the increasing demands of family
and professional life have turned even the most passionate of U.A. students into
reliable members of society.

Speaking of the devil, at that very moment, Eijirou has decided to give cheering
up Bakugou a shot. He’s left the kids over at the table with Mina, who is
absorbed in a story Denki is telling with sweeping gestures, not for the first
time, if Kyouka’s amused eye rolls are any indicator. Their daughter is
sitting in Denki’s lap and stares up at him completely transfixed.

“Hey, man!”, Eijirou greets Bakugou. He doesn’t sit down though. Instead,
he leans against the table with one arm, grins at Bakugou and nods back towards
his own table. “You wanna come with and hang out?”

Bakugou doesn’t  so much as deign a glance up at him. His face and tone are
deadpan when he says: “So that I can listen to you discuss baby buggies?”

“Have you even talked to the Kaminaris yet?” Eijirou, the patience of a
saint personified, does not let Bakugou’s grumpiness get to him in the
slightest. “Their daughter is just the cutest little angel! I bet they’ll
let you hold her if you ask!”

“Why would I wanna hold a snotty sack of flesh.”

To his credit, Eijirou doesn’t even flinch. “Dude, that’s Denki’s
kid!”, he says lightheartedly, but with enough of a pointed edge to let
Bakugou know he’s had enough of his sass.

Ochako watches in awe as Bakugou actively ascends to a level of petulance
hitherto unbeknown to humanity when he retorts, completely unimpressed: “
Stupid snotty sack of flesh then.”

Not even Eijirou really knows how to respond to this much impudence. A frown
flashes over his face, but within the blink of an eye, it gets replaced by a
smile that is equally rare. It’s soft and compassionate, and Ochako recognizes
it as the same smile Momo has given her earlier. “Alright then”, Kirishima
says and gives Bakugou’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “You hang in there, got
it?”

Bakugou harrumphs, Eijirou gives Ochako a quick nod and a smile before he
returns to his table. For a second Ochako feared he would invite her over
instead. The fact that he didn’t makes Ochako wonder whether he’s noticed
how uncomfortable Mina’s eagerness to poke around her relationship status has
made her. Ochako smiles as she watches him leave. He really is a bit of a
saint.

Since there might be a slight chance that Bakugou could use some alone time,
Ochako decides to mingle with the guests for a little longer. Despite her plans,
she does not approach Melissa, let alone talk to her. It’s silly, Ochako of
all people never had trouble making conversation. But she can’t for the life
of her think of anything that she would want to say or ask.

The music releases Ochako from her self-imposed aspiration to socialize. The
muttering of the guests dies down as the dancefloor gets cleared. With the
middle of the ballroom completely empty, it really drives home how gigantic it
is. Ochako thought the soft sound of strings was coming from the large black
speakers overhead. She only now notices an honest to god string quartet has
taken up position on the elevated little stage on the far end of the room. She
stares with a mixture of awe and… a much less graceful emotion she does not
want to pinpoint, as Deku and Melissa step onto the floor, Melissa holding up
one side of her voluminous white dress with one hand and Deku’s arm with the
other.

Deku’s grown since they first met, but Melissa is still almost as tall as him.
Her long hair is done up in an impossibly complex chignon that gives it the
shape of a rose. In short: She looks jaw-dropping. Once again, Ochako recalls
foggy memories of princesses from fairy tale cartoons, and Deku looks every bit
the prince to boot.

Ochako is sure that he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, and
that she probably returns his fond gaze, and that their wedding waltz is
absolutely magical to watch, because applause breaks out only moments after the
two have taken their first steps. But she’s gotta assume all of that, cause
her brain doesn’t seem to want to actually take any of what is happening in
front of her in. Instead, her eyes are searching for something else to look at
on the opposite end of the dancefloor.

An almost inaudible laugh escapes Ochako as her eye gets caught by Bakugou,
barely trying to conceal his indignation, nursing his glass of champagne, or
rather holding onto it like a lifeline. She has half a mind to walk over to him
right now and tell him that as much as she regrets him having to bear witness to
all this, Bakugou has her deepest gratitude for externalizing her exact
feelings. Never in a million years would she allow her pettiness to get the
better of her like that. But while it’s horrifyingly impolite, it is also a
kind of admirable trait Bakugou has refused to let go of: His right to be
irritated whenever he wants at whatever he wants.

The other guests join in on the dancefloor in pairs, because of course they do.
It's a classic partner dance. Ochako smiles at the passing couples, returns
Mina’s wave, and stands, and waits in the margins. Just like she’s been
waiting for goddamn years now. She sees Deku in the distance, holding Melissa in
his arms and swirling her around. He’s laughing.

Ochako cringes. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore that in fact... oh
god, she is so pissed.

She cringes harder.

Once again she spots Bakugou, resembling a dark familiar summoned at the behest
of her grudge, a manifestation of everything about her that she’s keeping
hidden underneath a smile, stalking along the walls of the ballroom and
watching, lurking, his burning eyes fixed to the bridal pair, a resentful spirit
that haunts newlyweds whose union left heartbreak in its wake.

Ochako wonders whether she should give the champagne a rest.

Then again, there are only so many things that keep her from drowning in misery
right now.

Rolling her eyes at her own dramatics, Ochako retreats back against the wall. 

“Thought you wanted to dance.” Bakugou has reached her on his patrol. He’s
left his suit jacket at the table between the last time she’s seen him and
now. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his trained
forearms. Ochako’s gaze falls on his wrists, which are adorned with tight
leather armbands. She also notices that he’s wearing rings on his hands.

Scraping together what little dignity Ochako has left, she smiles up at him and
says: “I’m fine watching!”

His glare does not waver. Apparently he’s not convinced. When Ochako’s smile
trickles down her face, she doesn’t turn away. She wasn’t fooling him
anyway. And she doesn’t have to fear any judgement from him. Or even worse,
pity.

The way he keeps staring at her makes it clear he’s expecting more out of her.
Or maybe he’s unsure what to do? With him, it’s hard to discern whether
he’s about to throw down or just plain confused.

Eventually, he mutters: “Fuck this”, turns and shuffles away, hands in his
pockets. At the edge of the open area, he shoots her a glare over his shoulder
and nods his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

Ochako’s brows shoot upwards. She considers whether she’s stepped into an
alternate reality. But just in case she hasn’t, she puts the glass of
champagne aside and hurries over to Bakugou before he can change his mind.



                             Kapitel 2: Flashover
                             --------------------


Bakugou holds out one hand for her, his face and eyes, frozen in a pointedly
neutral expression, are averted the slightest bit. It’s the worst attempt
anyone has ever made to raise someone’s spirits with a dance, but it’s
coming from Bakugou, and he’s not telling her to smile, or to cheer up. He’s
offering to keep her company, nothing more, nothing less.

Mina and the others mean well, and Ochako knows it. But for the first time this
evening Ochako feels a bit of the burden lifted off her chest the moment she
touches Bakugou’s hand. She can’t help but notice that he does look good,
now that he’s not lounging in his chair. With the scowl gone from his face,
the rise of his cheekbones and the vibrant red of his narrow, angular eyes make
him look actually quite handsome. The shirt brings out his chest nicely, or
maybe that’s just his good posture. Before she can gawk at him any longer, he
pulls her closer, making her laugh, close enough that she can smell his
surprisingly unobtrusive aftershave. He’s gotten pretty tall compared to her,
too.

Thinking back, Ochako realizes that she’s never been this close to him before,
let alone for prolonged amounts of time. When they put their arms around each
other, it’s a bit awkward at first. An embarrassed blush creeps over
Ochako’s cheeks when the calloused palm of Bakugou’s right hand comes to
rest against the exposed skin above the small of her back. Suddenly she becomes
acutely aware of how much of her dress exposes her shoulders. She avoids his
gaze, and he returns the favor.

It's obvious Bakugou is not doing this because he’s into it, and he’s taking
the guiding part a bit too literally. But aside from that, his form is alright,
and the slight wooziness of the alcohol makes Ochako grateful that he’s all
but holding her up by now. His body is pleasantly warm against hers, and Ochako
knows her sober self is going to be embarrassed of her for the way she’s
leaning into the embrace and how secure his arms feel around her - but for now
she can't bring herself to care. She’s just glad not to feel miserable for two
seconds. With a heavy sigh, she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her
eyes. Bakugou apparently doesn’t mind her cuddliness in the least. He keeps
steering them both over the rough sea that is the dancefloor, Ochako a ship
adrift and Bakugou a skilled helmsman.

It’s hard to keep track of time or space when you’re just a useless hunk of
junk lost at sea though, and when the music fades, an announcement is made that
the bride and groom are about to address their guests. Bakugou carefully loosens
the embrace and it’s hard not to feel a little adrift again. He takes half a
step back to put an appropriate amount of distance between them. Well played.
Ochako half expected him to turn around and storm off once he’s done his duty.
Instead, he waits until she’s steady on her feet, and only then heads back to
their table. As she follows him and fixes the strands of hair that have fallen
out of her updo, Ochako notices Mina, shamelessly ogling her, then Bakugou, then
Ochako again.

Deciding she is not ready to open that can of worms, Ochako ignores the
unconcealed nascent greed for romantic entanglement in Mina’s eyes as she
passes her table, grabs another glass of champagne from a platter, sits down
next to Bakugou and fans herself with her hand.

It’s a bit surprising that Mina of all people doesn’t seem to have gotten
the memo that Bakugou is as gay as the night is dark.

Ochako takes a pensive sip off her glass and watches Melissa and Deku step on
the little stage vacated by the string quartet. At least things can’t get much
worse from here on out, Ochako assumes, as Melissa lifts the microphone up to
her lips and begins thanking all her guests for the wonderful evening.
Melissa’s speech is short and sweet - heartfelt, but down to earth and not too
sentimental. For a moment, Ochako remembers how much she admired Melissa’s
fearlessness in the face of danger. She’s sure they could be fast friends.

Next up is Deku, and as opposed to Melissa, he’s got his speech written down.
He unfolds the sheets and they reveal a slight trembling of his hands.
Nervously, he adjusts his tie and he shoots the crowd a bashful little smile
that Ochako is sure could make flowers bloom on barren fields. His broad
shoulders and chest heave under a heavy breath, then he begins to speak. He
flounders at first, almost falls over his own words, but recovers just as
quickly. It’s downright astounding how well he manages to cover up his
nervousness with charm by now. He’s got a lot more to say than Melissa, mostly
about how grateful, even blessed he is to spend this wonderful time with his
wonderful friends, about how he can’t believe his luck, and about how everyone
here has made him the happiest man alive tonight.

Bakugou’s chair creaks faintly as he leans back and inclines his head, his jaw
clenched with tension. 

Ochako half expects Deku to start crying halfway through, but weirdly enough, he
doesn't even seem to be tearing up. His speech seamlessly segways from praise
for the pro heroes and their assistants holding society together to his own
plans for the future. This is the point where Ochako perks up in her seat,
hoping to finally learn when Deku has scheduled his return to Japan.

Instead, he reveals that he has been offered a permanent home at I-Island
Academy, and that he’s looking forward to working with Melissa and her
associates on even better ways to support heroes and civilians alike. 

Rousing applause. The hall turns into an ocean of faces cheering,
congratulating, hands stretching out towards Deku and Melissa, and in the middle
of the whole commotion, the calm little center of the storm, are two people
frozen to their chairs, pillars of salt.

Bakugou gets up, stands there for a moment, not unlike a sleepwalker, then turns
in the opposite direction of where Deku is smiling, and leaves.

The glass in Ochako’s hand is completely steady as she downs it in one go.
Looks as if this evening just turned into the perfect opportunity to get drunk.

 

 

 

There’s one major drawback about getting wasted at this kind of wedding: All
your friends are there to witness you making a fool of yourself. And not only
them, half your coworkers too. It’s too late for Ochako when she makes that
realization though. So naturally, her only escape is to flee the ballroom the
moment the ground starts spinning underneath her feet. Dodging out of sight,
avoiding especially Mina and the other girls, Ochako feels like a secret agent,
darting from cover to cover, until she reaches the patio doors and flees into
the darkness of the grounds surrounding the hotel.

The cool night air is pleasant on her heated skin. There’s a beautiful
European style pavilion in the center of the park-like premises, which Ochako
reaches almost without rolling her ankle in her way too thin heels. She holds
onto the handrail of the stairs, and even though the pain in her ankle is dulled
by the drunk dizziness, her vision starts to blur with tears.

“Stupid shoes...!”, she mumbles and wipes her cheeks with her flat hands,
but the tears just won’t stop coming. “Stupid grass”, she adds, softly,
and swallows down a sob. Another one constricts her throat, and before she knows
it, she’s all out weeping. She slides down onto one of the benches inside the
pavilion, covers her face with both hands and quietly sobs into her palms. Her
head feels too much as if it’s filled with wool for her to properly sort out
her feelings. She only knows that it’s too much right now, that she’s
disappointed, and frustrated, and that she wants to be anywhere but here, and be
anything but this sorry weepy little mess.

She’s momentarily distracted by a movement in the dark, but her consciousness
is too hazy for her to seriously get scared. She looks up and wipes her eyes
enough to make out a figure leaning against one of the pillars, and although the
next lantern is pretty far off and its yellow light barely reaches the pavilion,
Ochako recognizes Bakugou’s tousled hair.

She expects a wave of shame to descend upon her, but it doesn’t. She doesn’t
feel much at all at the sight of the man ostentatiously staring into the
darkness beneath the trees surrounding them, except maybe a hint of…
relief…?

There’s no way he hasn’t noticed her presence, not with the ruckus she’s
caused, but he pretends he hasn’t heard a thing. He’s facing a little away
from her, his face, a frozen mask of stern reticence, barely illuminated by the
faraway lantern. His hands are resting in his pockets. He’s still not wearing
his suit jacket, the top buttons of his shirt are undone, and his tie looks as
if it got carelessly yanked open and is now lying around his shoulders.

In any other situation, Ochako might have excused herself. But she doesn’t
really feel like being well behaved right now.

“So!”, she says, definitely loud enough for Bakugou to hear, but he
doesn’t move. Her voice still sounds husky. Nothing she can do about that now.
“Permanent, huh!”

Finally, Bakugou drops the act. He makes a noise that was probably supposed to
sound rough, but what comes out is a bit of a croak. He clears his throat.
“Must have been one hell of an opportunity. Can’t even imagine the kinda
money these people pay.”

Ochako snorts good-naturedly. “You know Deku doesn’t give a damn about
that.”

“Yeah? Well, what about Melissa”, Bakugou says and draws up his shoulders.
It doesn’t sound like much of a question. “You don’t know how many kids
she wants.”

That’s true. Ochako knows next to nothing about Melissa, except that she is
smart, stunning, and brave, a leading expert on hero support item engineering,
and the perfect match for Deku in every way.

She sniffs. Now that her emotions are bubbling to the surface, it’s harder to
ignore the jealousy roiling in her stomach. But that’s not even the biggest
problem.

“He really wasn’t planning on telling any of us about that beforehand”,
she states, and  the amount of bitterness in her voice is surprising even to
herself. But she doesn’t regret it. She had somehow lived under the assumption
that Deku and her… that they were friends.

A distant rumbling from a faraway thunderstorm rolls over the sky, and the
treetops curl in a sudden, cool breeze. It’s about to start raining soon.

“From the way he looked, I’m pretty sure All Might was in on it. Secretive
fuckers, both of them.” Bakugou hisses the last sentence and turns towards the
park. His outline is shining in a soft peach against the gently billowing trees
and perfectly trimmed bushes.

Ochako’s mind ties itself into knots trying to wrap itself around what
happened. “So he’s just gonna… vanish out of our lives like that.
Tonight.”

A lead blanket of heavy silence settles over them, because it is in this very
moment that it really hits them. Ochako knows it’s hitting Bakugou too.
Deku’s not simply avoiding them both. He’s running from them, as fast as he
can.

A painful constriction creeps down her windpipe, her lungs, until it reaches her
chest. She grabs her upper arms and tries to keep her body from convulsing from
the literal heartache.

Bakugou has the decency to stay turned away and feigns complete deafness. In
turn, Ochako pretends not to notice the way his shoulders are hunched up, and
the way his head is hanging low, making him look unusually small. They listen as
a light drizzle starts coming down on the pavilion roof. First one drop, then
two, then three, then more and more, too many and too fast to keep track of.
They sound almost melodious on the wooden shingles and white coated metal
rails.

Ochako flinches and looks up as a sudden roar rips apart the calming soundscape,
followed by a resounding, thundering BOOM!

An entire facade, the serious man in the suit who attends a wedding out of
courtesy, is burned away by the light of his own crackling explosions. It leaves
only Bakugou, and his grimace of anger is a mirror of Ochako’s insides. The
noise of the steady rain muffles most of the sound as Bakugou aimlessly throws
another blast at the sky.

“PISS OFF THEN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”, he screams, accentuated by another
handful of flashing explosions that fizzle out in the rain. “DIRTY FUCKING
BASTARD!”

A lot of environmental hazards training revolves around fire control. Ochako
recalls Thirteen teaching them lessons about coal-seam fires that can smolder
underneath the crust of the earth for decades or even centuries. It’s possible
for them to go unnoticed for years, until they breach the surface, cause
wildfires and damage to civilization alike. Incidentally, that’s exactly what
her insides have been feeling like for… quite some time now.

Bakugou is the flashover.

The flames blast up and disappear again into the night sky, a firework only for
the two of them, until eventially, the explosions subside and Bakugou stumbles
back against the pillars of the pavilion, shoulders heaving under shaky breaths.



                                Kapitel 3: Bail
                                ---------------


Ochako gives him a moment to catch his breath. She carefully gets up from the
bench and approaches Bakugou to stare into the darkness with him. He straightens
his back the moment he notices her next to him and rubs the back of his hand
over his mouth. For a while, he pretends he didn’t just go berserk for a
second there. He probably expects her to say something. She doesn't. There is
nothing to say. After a while, he throws Ochako a careful look, and immediately
starts rustling through his pockets, as if he’s searching for something.
Apparently not finding what he’s looking for, he cranes his neck and steps out
into the rain, back towards the terrace of the hotel. “Oi!”, Ochako hears
him yell at what appears to be a hapless waiter, or another service person,
collecting the seat cushions from the chairs on the terrace. “Get me a
napkin!”

Even from the distance Ochako can tell that the waiter is not thrilled about
getting interrupted in his duty to protect the seat cushions from the rain. But
he complies nonetheless, and Bakugou returns with a thin white piece of fabric
that he protects from the rain by holding open his collar and shoving the napkin
inside.

Hand firmly stuffed into his shirt and with a face as if he’s protecting a
considerable cash delivery, he rejoins Ochako under the pavilion, pulls his hand
out of his cleavage, for a lack of better words, along with the napkin, and
offers it to Ochako.

Bewildered, Ochako accepts the piece of fabric, and she kind of wants to say
thank you, but she also is not sure what she just witnessed, so she lets out a
breathy laugh instead.

“If you don’t want it, give it back!”, Bakugou snaps, but Ochako shakes
her head, which makes her even more dizzy.

“No, no, it’s fine!”, Ochako says and tries to bite back her giggling. 

Bakugou pulls a face, shoves his hands into his pockets and wants to turn away,
but she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Really, Bakugou. That’s very sweet.”
She says it with emphasis, smiles up at him, and his face smoothes over a little
at that. He breathes out, and the tension melts out of his shoulders while
Ochako gets to wiping her face. If even Bakugou notices she could use some help,
she really must look like an absolute mess. Of course the fabric of the napkin
feels soft and expensive. It’s also slightly warm where it was pressed to
Bakugou’s chest, and the faintest hint of smoke and Bakugou’s own scent
still clings to it. It smells nice.

All these years it was completely unclear to Ochako what exactly Bakugou was to
her. Whatever potential friendship they had kept getting eclipsed by the
intensity of Bakugou’s and Deku’s feelings for each other. It did not take
long for everyone around them to assume that Ochako and Bakugou were romantic
enemies, vying with each other for Deku’s affection. Only that Ochako had
never seen it that way. From the moment she met Deku, Ochako knew that she would
never get him without Bakugou, and it had never occurred to her why that would
be a problem.

Strange. Even when Bakugou and Deku had been together for a while, seeing them
had never felt the way looking at Deku and Melissa feels right now. And Ochako
recalled that when she had been with Deku a couple years ago, Bakugou had
avoided her, but he had never seemed this… crestfallen. This defeated. The
opposite was the case, she recalls him looking at her with something not unlike
a sort of grim respect at that time.

Through the sound of light drizzle overhead and the rustling of the trees, a
shred of music or laughter wafts over to them from the wide open, brightly lit
hotel windows.

“I really don’t feel like going back inside”, Ochako confesses and, at a
loss for what else to do with it, ties the napkin around her wrist.

She can’t go back to the ocean of faces, all greedily staring at her, waiting
for her to slip up. She can't keep on smiling for everyone now. Her makeup is
probably a mess. She’s wobbly on her feet and as if she’s gonna break out
into tears at the slightest provocation.

“You know you can just go, right?” Bakugou shrugs. “Wouldn’t even be the
first one to leave.”

“Hmm”, Ochako makes and slowly bobs up and down on the balls of her feet.
“Maybe.” She looks up at him. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m about ready to ditch this joint.” He watches as she takes a
quick step to the side to keep herself from falling, as her bobbing combined
with the light spinning of the world around her has her confused about her place
in three dimensional space. “You’re not planning on driving like this, are
you?”

“Actually, I was”, Ochako replies and contemplatively tips her finger
against her chin.

Bakugou raises his brows. Then he points at the seams between the large white
tiles on the floor and says: “Alright, walk down a straight line and I’ll
let you drive home, no questions asked.”

“Pshh!” Ochako makes a dismissive gesture and rolls her eyes. “Please!”
She positions herself and walks down a perfectly straight line to the other end
of the pavilion with almost no wobbling. She turns around with a little
flourish, and to really prove how sober she is, she makes her way back to
Bakugou, still doing her best to stay on the tile seams. A moment later she
realizes she should have left it at that first impossible feat, to be exact, it
occurs to her the second the world turns a little further to the left than she
anticipated and she trips over her own feet.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she braces for the impact. Miraculously, she never
reaches the floor. Instead she feels herself being caught and held up by strong
arms. It takes a moment for her jumbled brain to piece together what’s going
on. She opens her eyes and looks up, right at the indignant face of Bakugou,
who’s lifting her up and putting her back on her feet, but doesn’t let go of
her shoulders. “That’s it, I’m driving you back to the city.”

Despite his forceful tone, he waits for her to nod and murmur: “Yeah,
that’s… probably for the best”, before he guides her through the wet grass
and back to the hotel. They use the corridors next to the ballroom to reach the
main entrance, where Bakugou orders a bell boy to get them their jackets, a
bottle of water and bring his car around.

“What about my own car?”, Ochako wonders out loud while they wait in front
of the hotel and the steady rain trickles from on the wide awning overhead. The
lights of the street reflect in long streaks along the wet pavement. Ochako is
grateful that Bakugou has one arm wrapped around her shoulders to hold her
steady. What is more, his body radiates heat, and she’s starting to shiver,
with her back exposed to the wet night air. 

“Let one of your agency dweebs take care of it”, Bakugou answers.

“That’s what you use your assistants for?” Ochako acts scandalized.

Bakugou shrugs. “About all they’re good for.”

Ochako shakes her head and clicks her tongue in mock disappointment. “You
don’t mean that.”

Bakugou harrumphs.

The bell boy returns, bringing Bakugou’s suit jacket and Ochako’s little
bolero, as well as a bottle of water. Almost simultaneously, a valet pulls up
Bakugou’s car. Absolutely nothing surprises Ochako about the streamlined
roadster she’s presented with. It’s black with orange trimming, the
headlights sleek and narrow - all in all it looks like the car version of a
gamer chair. Of course it’s got a muffler delete system, making the engine
roar at even the slightest provocation, and a very unsubtle orange X adorns the
hood.

“For the record”, Ochako says and pokes a finger into her cheek while
regarding the car, “if you were trying to pull me, this would be the exact
moment I bail.”

“Believe it or not, you’re not my target audience.” Bakugou rolls his
eyes, puts on his jacket and holds the passenger door open for her. “Now quit
complaining or I’ll let you walk home.”

The car is lowered so much that Ochako is basically lying down when she gets
into the passenger’s seat. She bites back a laugh at the realization that the
seats look exactly like gamer chairs. Bakugou gets into the driver’s seat and
hands her the bottle of water. “Drink that. It’s gonna be a long drive.”

While Ochako untangles various clips holding her updo together and lets her hair
fall down to her shoulders again, Bakugou types her address into the GPS. The
display states it’s going to be a two to three hour drive. Immediately, a hint
of shame twinges in Ochaco’s stomach. She forgot how far out in the boonies
this hotel is, and she could have just stayed here for the night. But then
again, Bakugou has to get back to the city with or without her. And what’s
more important, she’s glad to be here, where it’s quiet, where no one sees
her face that is probably all puffy from crying, where she can be alone, and a
bit too tipsy, and pissed, and sad, and can sip water off her bottle in silence
and watch the night pass by the car window without having to feel ashamed for
the state she’s in.

They stay completely silent all the way until Bakugou pulls into a parking spot
not too far from Ochako’s apartment. She sighs and hopes nobody sees her step
out of the car that probably woke up the entire neighborhood with its bellowing
engine. 

Bakugou opens her car door and wants to lend her a hand to help her rise from
the almost completely reclined position the car forced her into, but then he
signals her to stay where she is. He gets down on one knee and nudges her leg
with the back of his hand, prompting her to turn towards him and put her feet on
the ground in front of him. He pulls up the corner of his mouth in disdain at
the sight of the red streaks where the straps of her shoes have begun cutting
into her skin. Bakugou undoes the straps unceremoniously and picks up the
shoes.

“What’s with these silly heels anyway”, he scoffs and helps Ochako onto
her bare feet.

“I think they’re very nice”, she responds, an unperturbed smile on her
face. The pavement is wet underneath her feet. She’s very happy to find that
she can actually stand on her own legs without wavering. Her head is much
clearer too.

Bakugou makes a gruff noise and dangles the shoes over his shoulder. “They
don’t suit you at all.”

Smiling at Bakugou’s potshots, Ochako stretches her arms over her head while
screwing her eyes shut. “I think I’m almost sober again”, she states.
“Good news is, I still got some pretty good stuff upstairs. You wanna
come?”

“Absolutely not.” Bakugou’s tone is firm, but the night has left its marks
on his face as well. He looks exhausted, in a way that’s got nothing to do
with being tired.

“Alright, but you should at least stay the night. How far away do you
live?” 

“Not far”, Bakugou grumbles.

Ever since he moved there, not a single day has passed without tabloids
gossipping about Bakugou taking up residence in the really lofty part of town.
Of course the exact address is kept secret, but Mina has shown Ochako photos of
a state of the art penthouse far above the city, decked out with all the modern
bells and whistles a pro hero could ask for. Ochako also knows it’s at least
another hour from here. “I promise my couch is the coziest. You’ll never
want to sleep anywhere else ever again”, she says. When Bakugou still
doesn’t move an inch, she puts her hands on her hips and decides it’s time
to put her foot down. “I’m not letting you drive all the way through town in
the middle of the night. Now get moving.”

She pictures herself as a lion tamer when Bakugou draws himself up to his full
height, which is a good six or seven inches taller than her, straightens his
shoulders and glares at her for a couple seconds. She neither yields nor even
blinks. Then, without another word, Bakugou locks the car and shuffles towards
the front door, Ochako’s shoes still dangling from his shoulders. Feeling
rather accomplished, Ochako follows him.

The elevator has barely enough room for three people in it. Entering it, Ochako
becomes suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Bakugou has not buttoned his
shirt back up after he hid her napkin inside, as his cleavage is right below her
eye level and close enough for her to peek into it. His chest describes a
perfect dip between his pecs. Not that she expected anything less from him. Not
that it’s anything new to her. But somehow, in this state of post-inebriation,
she can’t help but notice the tension in Bakugou’s shoulder muscles, the
perfect slope of the nape of his neck, and she catches herself wondering what
the soft skin of his throat would feel like against her lips.

Her eyes dart up at him. His furrowed brows imply that he’s noticed her
staring. She quickly averts her gaze, only to be met with their reflection in
the mirror.

After what must have been the longest elevator ride of her life, they arrive at
one of the top floors. Ochako hurries to squeeze past Bakugou and makes for her
apartment door. Hit by another wave of self-consciousness, Ochako apologizes for
the state the place is in before they even enter. They step inside Ochako’s
cozy and practical apartment.

“Over here’s the bathroom, that’s the kitchen”, she says and points to
the doors on the one side of the corridor. “This is the living room, and
that’s the bedroom.” She points to the doors on the other side of the
corridor. “It’s not much, and my parents keep telling me to get something
bigger. They say I can afford it, and I mean, I guess that’s true, but I
don’t need anything else. Also a bigger apartment would mean so much
cleaning!” She turns towards Bakugou, who’s standing behind her, has put
down her shoes and is now in the process of getting out of his own. “I guess I
could get myself help with the cleaning!”, Ochako adds, hoping that she’s
read his thoughts. “But honestly, why bother! I got this beautiful view, and I
feel cozy up here, and…” She realizes she’s rambling, so she lets the
sentence trail off.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to mind either way. He pushes the apartment door shut
behind him, an expression on his face that’s hard to read. Ochako takes a step
closer, maybe because she wants to help him out of the suit jacket. Or maybe she
does it because being too far away from him makes her feel cold, and lost, and
she wants to stay close to him. Her hands are on his lapels, and she’s
fumbling with them. “It’s really unusual, seeing you wear something like
this”, she murmurs with a contemplative smile. “Gotta say, I could get used
to the si-”

Her words, and thoughts, the whole world around them stops in its tracks as
Bakugou delves down and presses his slightly parted lips to her mouth.

This comes… as a bit of a surprise. And then again, it’s no surprise at
all.

Ochako’s heart thumps against her ribcage for one painful beat, and she can
hear her own breath coming out in a huff as her fingers close tighter around the
lapels of Bakugou’s jacket. 

Two calloused hands reach for her, cup her neck, travel up her cheeks and into
her hair, hold onto her as if she’s a long lost lover.

He breaks the kiss, but keeps holding onto her, and finally she can see his
expression for the vulnerable, cracked open rawness that it displays. Bakugou's
brows furrowed, his teeth bared, his own breath choppy and strained, like he’s
barely holding back, it’s clear that he’s waiting, asking, begging - To hold
her, to be held. He has been barely keeping it together these past few hours and
only let out his grief for a precious couple of seconds back at the pavilion.
But it’s not enough. This night is far from over for him.

And Ochako can feel it too, the burning of the scarlet red eyes mirroring the
coal-seam fire still scorching away at her own insides.

Ochako doesn’t know whether they are saving each other from this mess, or
dragging each other deeper into it. All she knows is that it feels warm, and
good, when she gently pulls Bakugou closer by the lapel of his jacket, so close
that their bodies are perfectly aligned all the way from chest to hip, and
kisses him back.



                               Kapitel 4: Adrift
                               -----------------


So much of the time leading up to Deku’s wedding has been spent preparing for
it that Ochako completely relegated everything else into the furthest corners of
her mind. Subconsciously though, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be
like afterwards. Before she could banish the thoughts, she saw herself driving
home, taking a shower, making herself a cup of tea and sitting down in the
living room to look outside the window, probably for the rest of the night. She
was dreading the feeling of emptiness following her all the way into her
apartment, and sticking to the walls like tar, for days, weeks, months to come.

What she didn’t expect was that she wouldn’t be alone.

What she absolutely didn’t expect was that she would be here with Katsuki
Bakugou, his dry and warm hands pushing up the seam of her dress as they wander
over the backside of her thighs, grab a hold of her ass and pick her up as if
she weighs next to nothing. His hands really feel rough, probably from the
thick, calloused skin protecting his palms from his own explosions. Seeing no
reason to hide her own impatience any longer, she wraps her legs around him. He
carries her the short way to the bedroom, kissing her all the way.

Ochako’s bedroom is exactly as tidy and neat as everything else in this
apartment, the large window overseeing the neighbourhood being her pride and
joy. It’s leaking soft, yellow light from the street into the room, just
enough for them to see everything that’s important and ignore everything that
isn’t.

Kissing Bakugou has never been something that occurred to Ochako. He was the
kind of man she had a hard time imagining getting intimate with anyone, and his
obvious aversion to PDAs didn’t exactly help. But if she had to imagine it,
she would have guessed that his touch was rough, his kisses fierce, and that
there was a lot of silly growling and hissing involved.

As it turns out, she wasn’t completely off. Bakugou’s voice does tend to
rumble in his chest when she bites down on his lower lip or rips open his shirt.
His hold on her is strong, but there is a surprising softness to it. Wherever
his teeth graze her skin, an open-mouthed kiss follows after. If she had to
describe his touch now, she’d call it less wild and reckless, and more
intense, and yearning. 

He half lays, half throws her down on her bed with exactly the force that keeps
her mind present, but not so hard as to hurt. For now, there’s no room for
talking between them. There’s nothing but breathy moans as hands brush over
fabric and the skin beneath it, pull buttons open and arms slide out of sleeves.


Ochako reaches beside her to turn on the bedside lamp, but Bakugou catches her
wrist mid air and guides it back to his chest. She gives him a short and sweet
kiss, takes his wrist in turn and leads his hand to her back. Without missing a
single beat, Bakugou follows her lead and reaches up with his other hand to undo
the clasp of Ochako’s bra with a light twist of his wrist. Ochako lets both
her dress and her bra glide down her body. Usually, she would have shown it off
a little more - as opposed to the sports bras Ochako usually prefers, this one's
pretty expensive: the lacy kind that’s see-through on the sides - But Bakugou
probably wouldn’t have a lot of appreciation for it anyway, especially not in
this dim light, so she carelessly tosses it aside. She leans back against the
headboard, and invitingly pulls Bakugou down with her. Her dress is too
expensive to be treated like this, but she enjoys the way it bunches up around
her hips as she pulls her legs closer to her body, and then slowly lets them
drop apart, to let Bakugou know exactly what she wants.

Even in the dim light she can see the gleam in his eyes as his gaze settles
right down on Ochako’s now revealed panties. It’s hard not to notice the way
his breath picks up speed as he crawls between her open legs, kisses his way up
from her clavicle to her jawline and up to her ear while his right hand travels
down her left arm, once again holds her wrist, much gentler this time, and
guides it up his thigh and to his crotch.

Following the invitation, she gives him a firm squeeze, just to find something
else that she hasn’t been expecting.

“Oh”, Ochako makes softly. Then, looking up at him, she says: “Wait!”
Before she knows it, she’s on her legs and scrambling for her dresser. She
rummages around for a moment, then turns back to a confused looking Bakugou and
presents him with no less than three different strapons as well as a bottle of
lube. “We got this!”

Bakugou’s expression immediately turns intrigued. He points to her, then to
himself. “You or me?”

She shrugs. “Whatever you feel like!”

A bit of tension finds its way back into Bakugou’s shoulders and he scratches
the back of his head. For the first time since they got here, he’s nervous.
“Just so you know, I, uh… haven’t fucked a lot of people with vaginas.”

A giggle almost escapes Ochako at the stilted wording, but she doesn’t want to
make Bakugou think he’s being ridiculed, so she bites back a snort and smiles
at him. “That’s ok, I’ve fucked enough people with vaginas for the both of
us. Who do you think uses these normally?” She wriggles out of her dress until
it slips to the floor and coyly steps out of it. Bakugou’s eyes follow her
movements, a mixture of nervousness and interest open in his eyes. She climbs
back onto the bed, puts the lube down on the nightstand, just in case, crawls up
close to Bakugou until their arms are brushing against each other and offers him
the assortment of strapons encouragingly. “You wanna give it a try? I’ll
make it worth your while, I promise.”

Bakugou regards them intensely, then picks the most slender one, the one
that’s got an extra protrusion to give the person using the strapon feedback
and a little bit of stimulation as well. Ochako was about to lend Bakugou a hand
with getting out of his pants, but he’s already shoved them off his legs
unceremoniously, followed by his underwear. She can’t help feeling a little
flattered at so much enthusiasm.

When he wants to put on the toy with just as little fanfare, Ochako gently holds
him back. She helps him put the harness on, pull the belts tight, all the while
taking her time, letting her hands linger on his skin, kneading his thighs, his
ass, and brushing her fingers over his hips, up his back to his shoulders, and
all the way down again, to gently pull him up to her. It’s not simply to
encourage him though, it’s also because now that she’s got him in front of
her like this, it’s hard to deny that the way Bakugou’s muscles work when he
moves does make heat rise in her cheeks. A body this gorgeous shouldn’t go
unappreciated, she decides.

While she’s subjecting him to her administrations, Bakugou’s hands slide
over the roundness of her ass, his fingertips press into the dip where her
thighs meet her ass cheeks, making her hum in contentment. His fingers brush
over the outer curves of her pussy, and there’s a timidness to this exploring
that makes Ochako bite her lips with how cute it is. His fingers sneak
underneath the hem of her panties and dip between her folds, and Ochako is not
ashamed at all of being wet and ready to his touch. She hums again as he slowly
drags his index and middle finger back and forth across the entirety of her
pussy, spreading her slickness to prepare her for what’s to come.

Bakugou sinks between her open legs, the round tip of the toy pressed to her
entrance through the barely existent fabric of her panties, which are equally as
lacy as her bra. She’s so needy, the feeling resounds all the way in her
belly. Eager for more, Ochako sighs and pushes up to it, and Bakugou, his face
scrunched up in an expression of endless concentration, relaxes as she begins
rolling her hips back and forth. The pleasant pressure against her already soft
pussy draws an open mouthed moan out of Ochako’s throat. Warmth pools in her
stomach and spreads into her thighs at Bakugou nibbling on her neck while he
gently fucks against her. 

Carefully, his hands travel lower, and reach Ochako’s breasts. He cups them,
tentative at first, and when brushing his thumbs over her pink nipples earns him
another pronounced moan, he squeezes them - way too carefully, but it feels nice
and warm nonetheless.

“Literally everything about you is perfectly round, huh…!”, Bakugou
mutters, and it sounds impressed. Agonizingly slowly, he rolls her nipples
between his fingers, fingertips just as rough as his palms against the sensitive
skin of Ochako’s boobs. And yet, he’s still being way too shy, making Ochako
arch her back into his touch. “Come on, I’m not as frail as you think”,
she breathes into his ear.

She doesn’t know why these words seem to flip a switch inside Bakugou’s
head, but he perks up immediately and looks at her as if she uttered a secret
code. He immediately regains his bravado, grabs the back of Ochako’s legs and
pushes them into the bed beside her, effectively folding her into the mattress.
She’s so revealed in front of him like that, and it feels absolutely fantastic
when she pulls aside her soaked panties and grants him access to her wet
entrance. When the tip of the toy breaches Ochako, she doesn’t even try to
hold back the shameless groan ripping out of her throat. She’s already so
slick she can barely feel the strapon gliding into her, until the rounded tip
brushes her insides at an angle that makes her throw her head back. Her hands
fly up to hold onto Bakugou’s shoulders. “If you don’t give me everything
you got, I swear…!”, she says between gasps.

Bakugou meets her gaze, equally determined. When he speaks his breath tickles
the side of her throat and makes her shudder. “Better hold on then…!”

Her fingers rake through Bakugou’s messy hair as his thrusts turn faster, and
harder. Her moans turn into pronounced vowels, her voice louder, and she knows
she's being greedy, rocking against the strapon, but it’s so good, being
pushed open by him. Every thrust makes her more sensitive, makes her welcome the
smooth toy pushing in and out even more, intensifies the pleasure rushing
through her. She's not an impatient person, but it's been a while, and she wants
this so much that she really couldn't keep it down, even if she tried to. Their
faces are only inches apart, and she can feel his breath on her skin, meet his
completely transfixed gaze before her eyes roll back from how she's feeling so
full, and whole, and perfect with him sliding in, and out, and pushing in
again.

It only occurs to her now that Bakugou is moaning too, breathy and huskily. His
ears are flushed, and his fingertips dig into the skin of her legs. Drool is
gathering on his bottom lip as he’s fucking into her, actually watching for
the way her expression shifts when he reaches all the good, sensitive spots
inside of her. Ochako wants to wriggle up to meet his thrusts, but by now he’s
got her completely pinned down with his entire weight. Absolutely at Bakugou’s
mercy, her mind is blown so completely that every single thought, every doubt is
eradicated.

“You want me to keep going, Round Face…?”, Bakugou asks, and Ochako is
sure there’s an impish glee in his tone. He knows he’s got her on
tenterhooks. Ochako can’t blame him. She’s well aware how cocky having
someone twitching around your strapon can make you.

“Yes!”, she all but screams. “Fuck, yes…!”

She yelps when Bakugou suddenly lowers his head, kisses the outer curve of her
breasts, then licks his way up to her nipple and sucks it into his mouth. Gently
at first, he drags his entire tongue across her nipple and presses his hot, wet
mouth to it, making jolts of pleasure race through Ochako’s entire body.
Spurred on, Bakugou sucks and laps at her breasts, greedily drinking in the
squeals he’s drawing from her as a reward, never breaking the rhythm with
which he’s driving into her.

Her moans are getting more high pitched and pressed, tapering off at the end as
she struggles to catch her breath between each new gasp.

“Yes…!”, she manages to get out. “Like that, like that!”

Despite his iron grip on her, she does her best to push up to meet his thrusts,
greedily chasing after that growing feeling of completeness that's spreading
from her crotch, up her belly and down the insides of her thighs. Her fingers
grasp aimlessly at the sheets and she throws her head back into the pillow, her
moans turn deep and guttural, as her orgasm crashes down onto her like a wave
and buries her underneath its force.

Bakugou mercilessly rides it out all the way, slowly and deliberately hitting
all the spots that make her writhe and gasp underneath him as the climax drains
out of her, until she pushes her hands against his hips and signals him to
stop.

They look at each other, two pairs of eyes dark and fresh with need, and Ochako
is the first one who starts smiling. A breathy giggle breaks from her chest. It
gets muffled by Bakugou closing the distance between them and kissing her,
licking, nibbling and biting her lips, then delving into her mouth, claiming it,
slowly, languidly.

He shifts his knees over the blanket and props himself up to pull out, and
Ochako closes her thighs around his hips to guide the pace. Her head falls back
into the pillow, tension draining out of her with a content sigh. Feeling all
mellow and pliant, she lets her hands wander up Bakugo’s trained arms and
angles her head for another kiss. When he complies, the strapon pokes her thigh
and she breaks the kiss with a huffed laugh.

“Wait, let me get rid of that”, she murmurs against his lips.

He sits up on his heels and lets her undo the buckles while she kisses the curve
of his pecs. A smell not unlike gasoline tingles in her nose, and it takes
Ochako a moment to register that it’s coming from Bakugou. She nips the skin
on his clavicle and breathes in the unusual scent of his sweat. A soft noise
escapes Bakugou when Ochako carefully and gently takes the strapon and slides it
out from between his thighs. Curious, but also looking for signs of discomfort,
Ochako replaces the toy with her fingers and gently presses them between his
warm folds. He’s soft against her sensitive paw pads, and she hums with
delight as she finds him swollen and slick - a pleasant and enticing surprise.

“What about you?”, she whispers and nips the tender skin above his collar
bone. “After you treated me this well, you deserve something nice.”

Bakugou seems at a loss for words. Ochako makes a mental note to write that down
in her resumé. He pushes up to the friction, stifles a moan and growls, his
voice breaking in his throat: “Just… do something already!” 

Ochako watches transfixed as he helplessly rocks his hips to meet her touch,
back and forth. The way he looks up at her, a sort of vulnerable frustration
open on his face, it all comes as another surprise. Figures, she thinks. From
his brash demeanor, she never would have guessed Bakugou’s actually this eager
to bottom.

It’s an intriguing thought, and in any case, Ochako’s not one to pass up on
such a beautiful invitation. As tempting as it is to let him roll his hips to
meet her fingers in vain, to feel his warm wetness and desperate need, she meant
what she said. “Alright”, Ochako says with a cheeky grin. “C’mon, let me
take care of you.”

She puts both hands on his chest and firmly pushes him back into the pillows.
The kneeling position must have become uncomfortable, because he’s quick to
comply.

The light of the streetlamps outside falls on his face, and Ochako is mesmerized
by the sight as she puts her hands on his thighs. He’s gorgeous like this -
his pale skin is flushed, his lips are parted slightly and his eyes glazed over
with need. He presents himself with his arms over his head, spreading his thighs
for her impatiently. Ochako pulls her lower lip between her teeth at the sight
as it goes right to her crotch, and she can feel her pussy throb gently. Time
for Ochako to use her special trick to get him into position. 

Bakugou opens his mouth to say something along the lines of: “get to it
already”, but he doesn’t make it that far.

She taps his legs to make him weightless, gently lifts him off the mattress and
floats him a few inches above it. A yelp rips out of Bakugou and he clamps his
thighs around her face.

“Cut that shit out, I’m gonna be sick!”, he barks and grasps for the
blankets underneath him for stability.

“Okay, okay, but you gotta let me go first!”, Ochako says, and giggles, but
it’s muffled by Bakugou’s strong thighs squishing her face together. He
gives her enough space to release him from the floating, and he softly plops
back down onto the mattress, a very disgruntled look on his face. Ochako gives
his knee an apologetic little kiss, and he lets her part his legs, his
expression still sulky.

Ochako pushes his legs back so she can bend down and kiss him right on the soft
part of his inner thigh, down to the curve of his ass. She nuzzles the light
tufts of hair right above his crotch, at which Bakugou wriggles impatiently
underneath her touch. Time to end his suffering then. 

“Fuck--” is all Bakugou gets out as Ochako parts his folds with her fingers
and lets her tongue dip into the warm wetness. He’s an absolute mess, his
slickness causing squelching noises with each movement of Ochako’s tongue. She
settles between his legs, delving deeper and pressing her flat tongue inside the
hot depths of his cunt. Ochako takes in the taste of arousal, how incredibly
soft he feels against her tongue. She can never get enough of this part. But
what she likes even more is the low, drawn out groan rumbling through the
mattress as she spreads his legs further and encourages him to roll his hips up.
She wants to hear him. She wants to feel the tension in his thighs as they
tremble when she hits the right spots.

Careful to cover her teeth with her lips, Ochako opens her mouth wide and gently
pushes against him, making sure her tongue is soft and covered with saliva.
He’s spilling over underneath her, her drool mixed with his juices thick and
sticky as it drips down her chin. Ochako laps it up and hums in the back of her
throat when Bakugou lightly thrusts his hips to meet her.

He’s all noises now as he presses up into her mouth, eager and desperate.
Ochako tongues at his entrance, the sensitive spot right inside, and Bakugou
pushes up, fingers tugging at her hair, arching his back. That’s what she’s
been looking for. 

She slides her tongue over the sensitive spot in wave-like motions as the groans
above her turn to screams. Bakugou’s thighs clamp around the sides of her face
as his muscles contract. Trapped by his legs, it’s getting hard to breathe,
but Ochako keeps going, gently now, with the slightest bit of pressure, just
providing him with enough wet friction to let him ride out his orgasm. His cunt
throbs against her tongue slowly and rhythmically, and while the pulsing
subsides, his legs relax around her. Bakugou folds his arms over his face and
turns into a trembling, exhausted pile of deep breathing and occasional moans
underneath her, allowing her to free herself and prop herself up on her elbows.

Bakugou peaks up at her from between his crossed arms. “You’re a mess”, he
remarks with his voice hoarse from screaming and reaches down to brush away a
sweaty strand of hair sticking to Ochako’s forehead. 

He’s absolutely right, Ochako can feel how sticky her face is and her mouth is
still full of thick goop. She grabs some paper tissue from the nightstand and
wipes her mouth. There will be time to clean up properly in a moment. For now
they both need to catch their breaths. She crawls back to Bakugou and snuggles
up to his naked body, putting one arm over his still heaving chest and one leg
over his hips. She nuzzles the nape of his neck and gives him a soft kiss right
underneath the jaw, making him shiver under her lips. His muscles tense under
her touch. The shiver turns into a tremble, and the tremble turns into a light
shaking.

Ochako tightens her embrace and pulls him closer. He follows the movement, wraps
both arms around her mid, tucks his head underneath her chin and hides his face
in the crook of her neck. His dam is finally torn down, made shaky and brittle
by the warm waves of the orgasm, and being caressed and cared for. The resulting
torrential wave overwhelms him with such intensity, he can’t even hold back in
front of Ochako anymore. Or maybe he doesn’t want to. Either way, she does her
best to hold him together as he falls apart at the seams in her arms. He clings
to her for dear life, his cracked voice barely audible as this wretched,
strangled little thing wrangles itself out of his chest: “I don’t know what
to do without him…!”

And with that, Ochako is getting swept along by the torrent as well, and every
choked back sob Bakugou convulses with tears opens the rift in her carefully
built wall. She’s already shed all the tears that she could cry tonight, but
that doesn’t make the ache squeezing her throat shut any better. What makes it
better is having Bakugou here, to hold, to hold onto. They have both gone
overboard now, but it’s alright. Better this than a journey to a place neither
of them wants to be.

Ochako buries her face in Bakugou’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere”, she
says softly.



                               Kapitel 5: Anchor
                               -----------------


She kneads the back of his neck until his shaking gets weaker, and his grasp
onto her feels less like he’s a drowning man holding onto a lifebuoy in the
middle of a storm. They stay huddled up to one another for a couple more
minutes, until Bakugou stirs in Ochako’s arms and wakes her from a catnap she
didn’t know she was having. Something strains against her wrist and she
notices that she’s still got the little napkin wrapped around it. She unties
it and tosses it onto the nightstand. Then she places a kiss on Bakugou’s
forehead, picks up his shirt from the floor, puts it on as a gown to ward off
the nightly cold and makes for the bathroom.

After taking a little shower and brushing her teeth, she feels much more like a
person again. Turns out torrents can also have a cleansing effect, because
Ochako feels completely and utterly rinsed for now. She gazes at herself in the
mirror and finds that she looks tired, and not happy, but still… content.
Which is a long shot from where she’s been for a while now.

Ochako slips back into Bakugou's shirt, steps outside the bathroom, and finds
herself suddenly confronted with her makeshift gown's owner. Bakugou tried to
open the bedroom door at the exact same time as her, and now they’re standing
in the doorway at a bit of an impasse. His eyes and nose are reddened as if he
aggressively wiped his face with paper towels. He’s back in his underwear and
has his pants slung over his arm.

“I’m gonna need that back”, he says and holds a hand in the direction of
his shirt.

The penny drops.

“Oh no”, Ochako says firmly, takes the pants from his arm, properly folds
them and places them over the back of one of the seats by the window. She turns
forcefully, causing the shirt to blow up around her, and points at Bakugou.
“You’re not leaving when we’re both like this.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Ochako shakes her head so vigorously it makes her hair fly.
“Heartbreak is a serious condition. And guess what, mister? Doctor’s in, and
she’s prescribed you snuggles all night long!” 

For a second, Bakugou pulls up his upper lip and looks at her as if she said
something mildly disgusting. Then, much quicker than anticipated, he throws his
hands up and relents. “Fine”, he growls. “Just let me use the damn
bathroom.”

“Permission granted”, Ochako says with a solemn nod.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, harrumphs and plods down the corridor.

When he returns, the smell of gasoline has been replaced with the scent of
Ochako’s body wash. He's also not in his underwear anymore. He crawls
underneath the blanket behind Ochako without any encouragement from her, making
her smile. Looks as if someone isn’t as dismissive of snuggles as he’d like
her to believe.

She turns around and sneaks one arm around his chest. “That was nice”, she
murmurs against his shoulder.

“You mean considering you had to get yourself the gayest guy at the party for
this?”

Her laugh comes out as a huff. More like considering that you are Bakugou, is
what she almost says, but she keeps it to herself. 

They lie together for a moment, two puzzle pieces that don't quite fit, but
still form a whole. As the light drizzle of rain starts pattering on the tall
bedroom windows again, they listen to each other’s breathing.

“I always just assumed it’d be either me or you”, Bakugou mutters, his
mouth half buried in her hair.

Ochako nods wordlessly. Despite their prior failed attempts at a long term
relationship with Deku, it had become obvious that both of them were more than
ready to give it another try. Or rather, that both of them would have been ready
to marry Deku off the spot, if given the chance. Ochako had always been pretty
convinced Deku reciprocated both their advances, but it somehow seemed as if the
clearer she was about her intent, the more skittish he became. She used to think
he maybe just wasn’t cut out for commitment, and she was ready to work with
that as well. Until she heard about his and Melissa’s plans, of course.

“When I was younger, I used to pine for him so hard”, Ochako says, and is
surprised to hear herself talk. She’s never told anyone about this, not Deku,
not her friends, not even her parents. But somehow, she’s been laid bare fifty
times over tonight, and this is something she needs to get off her chest. “I
used to keep all my feelings and thoughts about him locked up in my head like
something dangerous. But part of me was always having these silly little dreams
about being by his side, travelling with him, building something with him…
maybe settling down…” She pulls her legs up and covers her face with one
hand as if she could hide the way she’s blushing at the thought even now.
“But you wanna know what’s funny?” She taps one finger on Bakugou’s
chest and smiles up at him. “I was always so sure it was going to be you.”

“Yeah, right.” Bakugou frowns.

“Bakugou, listen. Ever since I met him, not a single day has passed without
Deku telling me about “Kacchan this, Kacchan that””, she says with a
giggle. “The way he looks at you, it’s like you hung up the moon. I was
always so fascinated by what you two had. I used to call it a fated battle
between rivals.” She makes a determined fist and shakes it in the air. With a
sigh, she casts her eyes down and wraps her arm around Bakugou again. “And
honestly, I think… I think I would have been alright with it being you.”

He makes a noncommittal noise, and Ochako already assumes that was his
contribution to the conversation, but then he takes a deep breath in and out
through his nose and says, with surprising emphasis: “Yeah. Likewise.” He
scratches the back of his head, as if he said something very embarrassing. “I
mean… at least you were a worthy opponent. And if it had been you, I could
have been sure that idiot is being kept in check, no matter what.”

A warm affection blooms in Ochako’s chest at the earnest compliment and she
rubs her forehead against Bakugou’s shoulder in the same way a cat would.

“But this…”, he says, back to frowning now. “This seems like he can’t
be far enough away from us.”

Ochako bites down on her lower lip. “Maybe we pushed him too hard.”

“Trying to get him to take a stance is not pushing him too hard”, Bakugou
says, not without a disgruntled undertone.

“Or maybe it’s his way of not trying to hurt anyone”, Ochako suggests.

Suddenly, Bakugou pulls his arm out from under her, sits up and pulls his knees
up to rest his elbows on them. “You know what I think?”, he says, and cracks
his knuckles. “That guy just can’t allow himself to be happy.”

Now wholly confused, Ochako also pushes herself up into a half sitting position
next to Bakugou and tilts her head, hoping she’s misunderstanding him. “Are
you saying Deku is not happy with Melissa? Bakugou, that’s… that’s
terrible…!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Bakugou’s expression is grave,
and when he looks at her, his eyes are clear, and there is no resentment in them
as he says by way of explanation: “Look, I know Deku. Better than anyone.”

Now it’s Ochako’s turn to frown. “There is more to this.” 

Bakugou chews around on his tongue for a bit, obviously hoping she’ll drop it,
but that statement was far too bold for her to let it go.

“Alright, fine.” Bakugou drags one hand through his disheveled hair and
takes a laboured breath. “Pretty much exactly one year ago, I told him I
don’t mind if he wants us both.” He makes a quick gesture pointing at Ochako
and himself in quick succession. 

Ochako raises her brows in astonishment. The surprises just keep on coming
tonight. “What did he say?”

“That’s the thing: Not a single goddamn word. Next day, it’s like he’s
dropped off the face of the earth. Poof, gone!” Bakugou makes an explosion
gesture with both his hands. “Maybe he’s feeling guilty for stringing us
along, maybe it’s just Deku being Deku. But in any case, that fucking nerd is
absolutely terrified of... of the idea of having this. Of being able to keep
both you and me without sacrificing anything, without any conditions, without
consequences. Being happy and accepted.” Bakugou rests his elbows on his knees
again and watches his fingers as he laces them into each other. “It scared him
so much that he started running, and he hasn’t stopped running ever since.”

“But that’s nonsense!”, Ochako says, way more forcefully than she
intended, and she knows she sounds angry, but she doesn’t care. “He deserves
to be happy, more than anyone else!”

“Yeah, try telling him that, see how well it goes.” Bakugou’s voice is
oozing bitterness.

And Ochako does feel the urge to do exactly that. But not only has she attempted
to get it through Deku’s thick skull time and time again, to no avail
apparently - it also hits her once more that tonight’s the night that Deku got
married, and that that train has left the station.

“Either way, Deku’s made his choice”, she says, much quieter again. “And
we just gotta… learn how to live with it.”

Bakugou swallows heavily. Weariness creeps into his features again, chasing away
the clearness in his eyes. Ochako scoots closer, leans her chin on his shoulder
and puts one arm around his waist. She stays that way for a moment and rubs
comforting circles into Bakugou’s skin with her thumb, until she finally finds
the right words. “But we deserve happiness, too. Don’t you think?”

Bakugou turns his head a little to look at her, and Ochako immediately realizes
that Bakugou has been asking himself that question for quite some time now. She
lays back down and stretches her arms out for him. “C’mere”, she says
quietly, and Bakugou follows her invitation with the least amount of theatrics
he’s displayed tonight. He pulls the blanket over them both, wraps his arms
around her, rests his head on her chest and lets her comb her fingers through
his hair. His warmth is calming, and comforting. The weight of his limbs pins
her to the mattress, an anchor that keeps her from floating away.

“I’m really glad I had you as my plus one tonight”, Ochaco says. And it
means more than that, but she knows Bakugou understands.

“Yeah”, he murmurs. “Anytime.”




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