Chapter Text
At 32, Ochako would never have imagined her life to be as depressing as it was. But here she is dragging her feet throughout the streets of Tokyo. Exhaustion seeping from her body. She should’ve been home hours ago, but right as she was about to leave the office, her supervisor dumped a load of work on her at the very last second.
And as the good corporate slave she was, she completed it all without a chirp. Even when everybody had already left—including her supervisor—and especially when she knew she wouldn’t get a cent from working overtime.
She sighed, looking down at her barely functional flip phone to check for the time. Another sigh leaves her lips. It’s late. It was way past midnight, and there wouldn’t be any trains to take her home. She would have to go walking or consider spending a chunk of her salary on a taxi.
…
Walking it is.
Thinking about it, it was better this way. She needed an excuse to not get to her apartment yet. She hated that place, just as much as her landlord, who’d find every excuse to barge into the shoebox she called home.
That disgusting little pervert was as much of the bane of her existence as her obnoxious supervisor. She couldn’t decide who she hated more, Mineta or Monoma, so she spread it out evenly between the two.
It would take another 30 mins to get home; she felt blisters starting to form inside her heels. Ochako looked around to find a place to sit till she was ready to continue destroying her feet. Glancing up, she saw a sign pointing at a bar.
Crimson Riot!
She considered getting a drink, even though tomorrow she would be working, and Monoma who for sure would give her hell if she got to work hungover. But one drink couldn’t hurt.
Ochako stepped inside the establishment. A bell echoes throughout the—almost—empty bar, giving away her presence. Her first thought about it, was that it looked… homey. Wooden chairs and tables scattered around in no particular order. At the far end were cushy sitting booths, meant to lobby large groups of people. On the velvet walls, hung pictures of what she presumed were of the employees and even the clientele.
“Welcome!” Chimed the large redhead behind the bar. He looked kind of young; she guessed he was somewhere in his 20s. The smile spread out on his handsome face had the permanent blush on her cheeks deepening.
“…Hello.” Her voice came out timid. “I’m sorry, I saw the sign-are you guys still open?”
He takes a few seconds to eye her. She squirms under his inspection. A few seconds more and he blesses her with another beautiful smile. “Don’t worry about it! Take a seat,” he gestures to the stool in front of him.
She walks towards the bar. He sets down the glass he was wiping when she entered. She takes a seat.
“What can I get you?” His toothy grin melts her insides.
She could feel the heat on her face spread. God, when was the last time she got laid? Here she was being reduced to a blushing fool, simply because of a smile. An incredibly beautiful one but still. Damn, he was even better looking up close.
“Um… can I have whiskey? Neat, please.”
His eyebrows shot up at her request. He quickly recovers, once more plastering a million-dollar smile.
“Right away!” He goes to prepare her drink; she has a front-row seat to his chiseled back. His red V-necked shirt stretched tight across his bulging muscles. She’d love to have her head squeezed between his massive biceps. The man was for sure hand sculpted by the Gods. “Rough night, huh?”
She snaps out of her entranced state. “Huh? Oh yeah…” she laughs awkwardly. She needed to get it together. She didn’t want to get caught lusting over some kid, who she was sure was at least a decade younger than her. And definitely in better shape. She felt a strike of envy rush through her; he must’ve had a ton of time on his hands to be able to achieve his build. If she had half the time he did, maybe she’d be able to get rid of her soft stomach.
“There you go.” He served her drink in a lowball glass, placing it in front of her.
She smiled kindly. Taking the drink to her lips, she takes a sip. Its bitter contents burn down her throat. Content, she sighs. “Thank you.” She places the glass down. “I really needed that.”
“Of course!” His eyes never leave her, just as his smile never falls from his lips. She felt captured under his gaze. She fidgets in her seat.
“So. Are you going to talk about it?”
“Sorry?” She questions.
“Sorry, that was way too straightforward. What I mean is… well you know,” she didn’t. “bartenders are kinda like unlicensed therapists, right? Unless they’re an actual therapist. Anyway, feel free to unload on me.” His smile grew, baring his sharp teeth; it reached his eyes, leading them to shut. “I’ll listen with zero judgement!”
She looks down, away from his kindness. She isn’t used to it. Not since her parents died five years ago. It’s also been a while since she went out with her friends. There hasn’t been the time to do so; there’s barely any for food and sleep.
“I—thank you, but I wouldn’t want to burden you with my problems.” She glances up, staring into his crimson eyes now opened for her viewing. She smiles; she’s aware of how pitiful it must seem. “Just the drink is fine.”
His locked gaze has Ochako feeling like she’s being put under the spotlight. She’s put into ease thanks to his smile, which is smaller from before but still kind. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just you in here. How about we introduce ourselves? I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I let a beautiful girl like yourself get back home looking so sad.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, contemplating his offer. Also to keep any pathetic sounds from slipping. Can you blame her? This scrumptious-looking man said she looked beautiful! His words make the offer more tempting, and not because she needs to unload. Screaming into her pillow is enough for her—for now. But it would keep her in his company, and maybe... She internally whacks that idea out the window. Taking a 20-something year old back home is a horrible idea, for a series of reasons. One of them being that she doesn’t think she’d be able to fit him in her apartment.
“Here, I’ll start.” He must’ve had enough of her internal brewing. “Names Kirishima. Kirishima Eijiro. Feel free to call me Eijiro! All my friends do.”
It’s a wonderful name and it fits him just as wonderfully. She can even imagine herself screaming it into the air—she decides imagination isn’t bad, as long as she doesn’t act on it.
“Uraraka Ochako.” She says softly.
“Lovely name for a lovely person.” Ok, she’s starting to think he’s fishing for tips. The realization doesn’t stop the growing flush, though.
“Thank you. Y-you as well. I mean, your name is lovely! Your mother did a great job!” What is she saying?!
A bark of laughter rings through the space around them. It’s loud, joyous, and.. wonderful. She wouldn’t mind hearing more of it.
“Thanks! I’ll be sure to let them know.”
“Them?” Her head tilting to the side.
“Yep. Got two of them.” He pulls out his phone and shuffles through it for a while before showing her a picture of two gorgeous women. One has long black hair, she’s tall, and she looks incredible in her flowy dress. The other has blue hair; she’s a tad shorter than the former, but she’s equally as beautiful. Both women are locked in a loving embrace. It shocks her a bit to know he has two mothers. They live in conservative Japan after all. But seeing how their smiles flash through the screen, Ochako can’t help but return it. Wishing them all the blessings she is sure they deserve. Damn anyone who disagrees.
“They’re beautiful. I can see where you get your looks from.” Yeah, she can flirt too. But it’s not going anywhere! She scolds herself.
He looks taken aback a bit. His ears pink at the tips. He rubs the back of his neck. Seeing the flustered look on such a mammoth of a man is certainly a funny sight.
He clears his throat. Planting both hands at the bar.
“Enough about me. It’s you I want to know about.” She’d feel scrutinized under his gaze if it wasn’t for his boyish smile. “Now spill, Ochako.”
She flinches at the use of her first name. The audacity is strong in this one. But she moves past it.
“Well…” Before she can continue, the bell goes off again. She turns to see the new guest.
What is it with this place? Is it exclusive for walking runway models? If so, Ochako shouldn’t have been allowed entry. A smoking hot blonde with what her younger self would’ve called blood diamonds—she didn’t know what the term actually meant—for eyes, enters the building like he owns the place. He’s in a white collared shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The poor fabric fighting against hard muscles. His slacks look tailored for his body. Must be a rich kid. If it wasn’t for his wardrobe, she’d think he was a college student, maybe around the same age as Kirishima.
“What the hell, shitty hair?! Why the fuck are you still open?” His brash voice sends tingles to places she hasn’t used in months.
“Hello, Katsuki. How are you, Katsuki?” Says Kirishima from behind her. “One of these days I’m going to have to teach you how to talk like a normal person. First lesson is on greetings.”
“Fuck you and your lessons.” His eyes move away from Kirishima to fully glare at her. “Who’s the broad?”
She hears an exasperated sigh from behind her. “Katsuki, Ochako. Ochako, Katsuki.”
He glares at her for another ten seconds, then slowly moves to take the seat next to her. She stiffens at having the sexy, rude blonde beside her. His harsh gaze is now so close. She stares back, like a deer in headlights.
“Chill out, dude. You’re scaring her.”
She finds the cute redhead's words terribly annoying. Why? Because Ochako’s life sucks. She barely eats or sleeps. And when she does eat, it has her belly bulging out; not only that but her ass doesn’t even fit in her favorite jeans anymore. Ochako hasn’t talked to Mina in weeks, and replying with cute emojis to dumb memes doesn’t count. What’s worse is her dead-end job, which is leading her nowhere but to die a miserable death in an apartment she swears is haunted by a blonde-haired teenager in a middle school uniform.
So yeah, this gorgeous prick might be a bit intimidating, but she isn’t about to be scared off by some brat. It has her shoulders squaring back and her chin tilting up. And with the best of her ability, she glares back.
Both jerks—because that’s what she’s decided they are—burst out laughing.
Kirishima is the first to catch his breath. “You’re so cute, Ochako! You look like a cute angry hamster!” He pinches her cheeks. Vexed, she swats him away. She grabs her drink, grumbling, before she takes a gulp.
The other jerk also calms down before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, shitty hair. She doesn’t look scared to me.” He leans on the bar, propping his muscled arm on it. He lays his head on the palm of his hand. “Isn’t that right… cheeks?”
She chokes on her drink. And slams the glass down. “Cheeks?!”
Her reaction sparking a devilish smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I’m calling you.”
“Excuse me, but I have an actual name you can use.”
“Aw, come on, Chaks,” says the redhead. Butchering her first name, she never even gave him permission to use. The audacity of both these… assholes—yeah, they’re assholes now! “Getting a Baku-nickname is like the highest form of praise…” He looks up in thought. “Sometimes.”
“Nope. No way.” She’s feeling a little tipsy. That’s good; she can attribute her flush to her diminishing sobriety. “It’s Uraraka. U.RA.RA.KA.” Her index finger, jabbing the wooden surface at the sound of each syllable.
“Nah. Cheeks is better. I’m calling you Cheeks.” She fights the urge of slapping that smirk off his face.
Done with the conversation. And with him, she sharply turns her head away. With Ochako’s drink back in her hand, she mutters into the glass. “Whatever, I’m not about to argue with…” She shoots him a look to the side before finishing, “a child.”
“Hah?!” She swiftly looks away, nursing her whisky. She hears both his hands slam down on the wood.
Kirishima snickers, enjoying the scene unraveling before him.
“What did you just say?!”
Placing the glass back down. There’s still a little left; she briefly considers ordering another one. She turns to look at him head-on. She’s determined to silence his rude mouth.
“I said, ‘I’m not about to argue with a child.” She repeats. Her words coming out sharper than before.
“Listen here, sweet cheeks,” she’s gonna sock him for real, “I’m not about to hear that from a fucking toddler!”
Toddler?!
“Who are you calling a toddler?!” It’s now her turn to stand and slam her hands against the bar. Even with her heels on, she barely reaches his chin; don’t get her started on where she stands next to Kirishima.
“You,” he jabs his finger just under her clavicle.
“Ok. Let’s calm down—“
Ochako doesn’t allow the red oaf to finish when she slaps the finger away from her and says.
“I’ll have you know, I’m 32 years old. And I’m not about to let some rich brat call me a toddler.”
She returns his scowl with a gaze heated by her ire.
She’s met with a quick moment of silence. Until.
“Woah, Ochako, you’re 32?!” Her head snaps in the redhead's direction.
“What?” confused by his question.
“You look so young! The only reason I didn’t ask for your ID was because what teenager walks into a bar in the middle of the night in office clothes? Still, I pegged you for someone in their early 20s. But 32…” His arms cross, his biceps flexing obscenely, he whistles low. “You must be like wine or something.“
His charming smile melting away her frustrations. Allowing clarity to sneak through. She realized not only did she go against her own statement of not arguing, but if she hadn’t been so riled up, she would have seen that the blonde’s words were a compliment wrapped around an insult.
"Oh…" She was sure her whole face resembled the color of Kirishima’s hair.
“Tsk… You’re just going to ignore the fact she called me a rich brat?” His question directed towards the redhead. Based on the tone of his voice, he had simmered down as well.
"You are a rich brat." Kirishima chuckles.
"Well, fuck you too." Annoyance prickled in his tone, but it didn’t carry any of the heat from before.
Ochako sits back down, mortified at her little episode. She hears Katsuki take his seat as well.
"I should go." She regrets taking her seat; it makes her scurrying for her wallet all the more appalling. She should’ve just continued her way home and taken the blisters head-on.
“Wait, what—? Wait, Ochako, don’t go!”Kirishima perplexed by her abrupt need to leave. "Bro, apologize!" chastising.
“Why should I?! Cheeks should apologize. She insulted me first!” His rueful pout contradicts his rebuke.
"Katsuki—"
Ochako cuts off Kirishima’s chide. “No. He’s right.” She peers into the blonde. "I apologize, Katsuki. I shouldn’t have said those mean things to you.
He averts her gaze uncomfortably.
"Tis fine. It's not a big deal or anything.” He mumbles. She sees the frustration boil in him but he contains it. “Damn cheeks… If I knew you were going to leave, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t put this one her.¨ Kirishima berates.
Ïm not!¨ Katsuki averting his eyes once more under Kirishima’ glower.
¨You should really apologize, Kats.” Kirishima's expression is dour.
The blond finally explodes. “Fine! I'm sorry.” fixing his look onto Ochako, then moving to look towards the redhead. "Are you happy now?!"
His boyish grin blessing them all once more. "Very!"
“Thank you…¨ She says shyly, her eyes glancing down. Nonetheless, she feels both boys locking their eyes onto Ochako. She feels naked under the observance. She pulls out all the cash she has, hoping it's enough for the drink plus tip. She sets it down on the flat surface. Sliding it over to Kirishima. "I should really get going—"
"Keep it." She veers up, gaping into crimson.
"No—I couldn’t—"
“It’s cool. On the house.”
"Kiri—"
“Eijiro. My friends call me Eijiro. And they also don’t pay.¨
¨I—¨
"Just take the money." Will they let her finish? “He isn't gonna accept it. There isn’t anyone more stubborn than Red.” The blonde leans his head back onto his palm. Fixing her with beguiled regard.
"Pot calling the tea kettle."
"That’s not even close to how the saying goes, you moron!" Katsuki berates.
"Aw shit, for real?!" gawking at Katsuki.
"Seriously, that cheap-ass dye is overworking your single brain cell," he leers back incredulously.
Any shame bristling into her ribs is picked away at their squabble. At their kindness, really. It’s refreshing, and it has her leaning in, enjoying it like a cat bathing under the sun. Tears prickle in her eyes, then fall when giggles patter from her lips. The boys pause their silly quarrel. Gaping in concern at Ochako.
"Shit, Ochako, you okay?! Quick, Katsuki, apologize!” The demands sounds more like a plea.
“I already did, idiot!” The blonde retorts. He shifts his concerned gaze back at Ochako, who was still laughing with tears in her eyes. “Hey Cheeks, you ok? Do you need a hospital?”
"Why would she need a hospital?!"
"I don’t fucking know!" They go back to their squalling.
Ochako feels her burdens loosen, but it's only momentarily. She knows not to rely on the feeling but lets herself soak in it for a brief moment. She settles down; she’s glad she came here after all. It’s been a while since she’s felt so unwound; she has them to thank for that. It’s a pity she’s decided she won’t ever see them again. They make for a good time and even better eye candy.
After returning her money back to its rightful place, she speaks. They quiet immediately at the sound of her voice. “Thank you. I had a good time. And a great drink, with amazing company.” She’s beaming at them with a smile she hasn’t managed to bring forth in ages.
They simply stare at her. Her eyes bounce from one pair of red eyes to another. It’s strange, the look that they both share. Ochako can’t really place the meaning behind it. But it reminds her of those animal documentaries she used to watch. When an animal had their eyes fixed on their prey. It’s that; it’s exactly that.
It’s predatory, as if they’ve decided she’s theirs to devour.
But that can’t be right. She chuckles internally at her passing thoughts. Man, she’s really wasted.
“Please stay,” Eijirou’s words pleading. “Just for a bit longer.”
“C’mon cheeks. I’ll even buy you a drink.” Says Katsuki, she can hear his plea hidden in a smirk. She stares back at their pleading eyes. She should say no, definitely should do it. It was late and she has to work tomorrow even though it’s Saturday.
“Fine,” she’s an idiot. “But I’m not taking another drink,” but a responsible idiot.
Hours go by, and soon the red head goes from Kirishima to Eijirou, and she learns Katsuki’s surname is Bakugou. Their conversation flows naturally, and the more they talk the more she learns. Like how the bar was owned by Eijirou’s uncle or how Katsuki was getting his masters in Business.
How they both met during their freshmen year in highschool, how they’re both gym rats. How Katsuki is a good cook, and how Eijiro's actual hair color is black.
When she gazes at them she learns how they both swim in each other's eyes yet don’t drown. How Katsuki is all brash but softens under Eijiro kind guise. How Eijiro laughs the hardest when Katsuki says anything foul. It’s sweet, and loving. And it has her wishing the night never ends. But it does especially when they try to know about her. And Ochako realizes it’s time to go because that’s a can of worms she doesn’t want to open.
It’ll also be better for her heart, since she won’t be seeing them again. She is already used to her dull depressing life. And tonight was a nice luxury she allowed herself. But now she has to go back to reality.
She moves to stand. Pulling her bag over her shoulder. It really is time to go. Tomorrow is definitely going to suck. "I should really get going; I have an early schedule tomorrow."
They both share a look between one another; it's quick, but she still catches it. Unfortunately, she’s not as sober as she should be to see the red flags swimming in their eyes. In the future she’ll blame it on the color of their irises for camouflaging the obvious warnings.
"Let me give you a ride." Based on the kind offer, she would’ve thought it was coming from Kirishima, but it’s the brash sound of Katsuki’s voice that tells her it’s him. She swirls in his direction.
“Oh no! Don’t worry about it; my place isn’t that far,” she lies.
"Don’t be stupid, I’ll take you." He stands, pulling out what she presumes are his keys.
She opens her mouth to say something only to be cut off by the redhead.
"You're taking the ride, Ochako," he says, leaving no room for debate. “This part of town is dangerous even during the day. I don’t know what I’d do if someone laid their hands on you. So you’re going with Katsuki, and he’s not leaving till he sees you step inside your house.”
Ochako is stunned by the unyielding tone. His boyish grin was replaced by cold inflexibility.
"Now who's scaring whom?" Katsuki throws back Kirishima’s words straight into his face.
Kirishima’s stern expression falls instantly, flustered by Katsuki’s reprise.
"Crap…" Bashful. "I'm sorry, Chaks, I'm just worried is all."
On a less alcohol-induced day she would’ve walked out. She’s ok taking shit from the person signing her paychecks, but some cute guy she met a few hours ago? Hell no. But it was an alcohol-induced day, so she was more susceptible to letting it go.
"Oh… uh, don’t worry about it. You’re actually right. There's no use in being stubborn.”
She could only describe the toothy grin he flashed her way, as divine. Any unease draining from her system.
“Good. You have all your shit?”
She rolls her eyes at the vulgar words. Causing the redhead to snicker. "If by 'shit' you mean my personal items. Then yes, Katsuki.”
"Don't sass me woman." She sees through the smile concealed in his scowling lips.
He looks at Kirishima. "You coming?"
“Can’t. Need to get this place into shape before locking up.” Kirishima replied.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up after I leave cheeks.¨
Yep! "Sounds like a plan." He turns to look at Ochako. "It was nice meeting you, Ochako!"
“Mhm, same here. Thanks for the free drink," she smiles.
"Anytime!"
“Let’s go already; I should’ve been in bed hours ago.”
"Huh," Ochako confused by his words.
Neither paid her any mind as Kirishima’s voice cuts through.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says to Katsuki.
Katsuki’s glare flares in annoyance at Kirishima’s eerie-like smile. His annoyance increasing with every silenced second.
"Fuck you, you attention whore!" He says before he reaches out, pulling at the red collar. Katsuki basically drags the behemoth that is Kirishima over the bar, planting a sloppy kiss onto Kirishima’s lips. Who returned the kiss with as much fervor.
Ochako is left stupefied by the display going on before her. Of course! It was so obvious. The heaty gazes, the lingering touches. She was an idiot. A huge one. A disappointed one. She pushes it to the side. Acting as if it never existed in the first place. Because it’s not like she was going to ask either of them out anyway. She isn’t even planning on coming back. Most likely never seeing them again. Definitely never seeing them again. Her thoughts has her feeling even deeper disappointment. So she pushes that aside too.
They separate long after—it was too long for a goodbye kiss—Katsuki taking Ochako’s wrist and tugging her towards the exit. Not acknowledging what had transpired moments ago.
“Oh shit! I forgot. Katsuki, get her line," the redhead called out.
"I know!" the blonde yelled back.
Yeah, that’s not happening. She thought. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. Not with her phone.
He pulls her out the door. She barely hears Kirishima’s muffled voice. "See ya soon, Chaks!"
She mourns his words. She really did like him. She likes Katsuki too. What a pity.
Outside the night was colder than before she had entered the Crimson Riot. She misses the warmth the homey bar had offered her. She mourns it slightly. Maybe she could come back, if only for that other drink she was offered.
Once out of her thoughts, she sees Katsuki entering a fucking Porsche! So the brat was rich.
"What are you waiting for, Cheeks? Get in!” He calls from within the stupidly expensive car, window down.
She moves quickly around, swiftly entering the car to escape the cold. And escape the cold she did; it had heated seats!
She turns to glare at his privilege only to be met by his own glare.
"You got a problem with that?"
That? What was that? Oh… that.
Ochako chortled, resting her head on the headrest, her glare shifting into the same warming gaze her mother would bestow her.
"Not at all." She said simply.
His scrutinizing leer moves into something else, and once more Ochako is reminded of those predators that captured her tv screen. His lips tilting upwards in a feral grin.
"Good." He turns to start the engine, but before driving away, he states. "You’re giving me your Line later."
She can’t. But… maybe her number?