#black doom is in the bottom right corner btw

[sharks3ye]

im literally so exhausted AAUGGHDHFHVB this is the reason i havent been all that active

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 1/6: “You’re Not Supposed to Drink Coffee This Late, Sir”

NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There's, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

Wordcount: 1.5K words

Notes: C'mon, the occasion was too tempting for me not to title this fic after the real banger that is Susumu Hirasawa's masterpiece, "Nurse Café".

Your boi is working on his big-ass Arc-V fic project, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do and writing a nice little sickfic. AKA: I'm bursting that fandoms's door like I've always done, which is with a sickfic nobody wanted but me (and maybe my friend @nehamerchant123 who got me into this mess in the first place) (btw go check her cake business, she’s working on her cardd page for it)

I've been into this game's characters for a whole three weeks but I am not giving a shit I am doing this. I also don't know anything about colleges at all in any part of the world, I don't even know the Sorbonne because I've been there like thrice and it's always been in the same parts anyway (to be fair, I'm not even attending it yet lmao) It's very self-indulgent so it's short and split in two, I dunno, I may combine the two chapters some other day. It's probably also OOC, but whatever yeet

AO3 version available here.

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On second thought, his life may have been a mess, lately. For someone who liked organization, keeping a pace and thinking everything thoroughly to reach as much perfection as possible, he sure had allowed things to get messy without meaning to. To be fair to himself, problems had started piling up suddenly and at an incredible speed, to the point he didn’t know in what order he should have attempted fixing them: should he prioritize taking care of his grandmother who broke her leg not too long ago, his studies increasing in volume or his club duties, even if his leader was getting on his nerves with his weird, nonsensical shenanigans?

At first, he tried managing everything at once, but after some weeks of pulling almost-all-nighters, he decided to seek alternatives. It didn’t quite work out as planned, but at least, he had found a way to survive the storm for now: the local coffeeshop’s espressos. For someone who used to be so on-the-nose with his health, that was a strange choice, sure, but being friends with people like Subaru Ahehoshi made one adaptable and needing to find solutions quickly, if just temporary.

Not that he didn’t hate relying on coffee in the first place.

 His new routine, solidified by a couple months spent tuning it to maximize time use and task efficiency (albeit it was still a bit stiff, like he had always been), consisted of doing the most he can, not fall onto his bed and immediately find sleep before getting woken up by his own anxiety, and continue on his day by getting a cup of coffee in the same café, each time, to the same cashier. It was always the same order in the same place at similar hours of the evening, which gave it a sense of comfort he wasn’t against in times where he wasn’t sure how he should have asked for help. All of what he was doing is stuff he was supposed to be doing by himself, after all: he shouldn’t have needed someone else’s help for that, didn’t need to bring them through the mud with him (even if Isara had offered to help him, he had always declined: Isara may have very well been the only man he knew that had constantly been busier than him).

His grandma has told him before to lay it off, to let her do her thing and for him to focus on himself. While he intended on forcing himself not to barge into her life constantly, he quickly found himself doing it again even after her scolding: he just couldn’t not worry over it, he had to check if she was doing fine and if she was getting the hang of things. Ah, how thick-headed he’s been!

(In a way, maybe he put himself in that mess to begin with. Should have applied his own advice and tasted his own medicine).

 With a presentation dooming over his head for the next week and more drama club shenanigans, he had gotten backed in a corner: it was either researching for the entire night or risk getting an awful grade that’d sink his results to the bottom of the sea. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he had gone for the first option, albeit he was starting to think this may not have been the greatest idea he had ever had. (Actually, far from it). Still, that presentation wouldn’t write itself on its own, so he went for it and spent a night or two working on that while occupying his daytime with taking care of his grandma (who’s soon out of having her feet stuck in some cast, thank God for that) and club business and other college-related catastrophes strolling around in his life.

It was with a pounding headache and stumbling feet that he made it out of his flat and into the campus, heading straight for the café he always got his precious cup of coffee in (he was hesitating to put aspirin in the cup itself, but that sounded like a terrible idea, and he had left his aspirin tablets in his flat anyway), ignoring the gazes around him (it was easier to do when his sight is half-blurry to begin with). Once he was done with that necessary loss of time, he’d be able to come back to his actual work and that until he’d be finished with it. If he was productive enough, he should have been done with that presentation’s slideshow by the time 5AM hits.

 He entered the café, heard an unfamiliar bell ring immediately as he opened and closed the door, and went straight for the counter like a drunkard entering a tavern. He didn’t care about it in the slighest: he pulls out his yens from his pocket, slams them on the counter and asks, in a groggy voice he doesn’t like to hear to himself, “hello, I’d like an espresso, please”, with the least charisma he could have mustered because he was that tired and he just wanted to be over with that damn presentation already.

It was only when he rose his eyes to face the barista that he realized he had entered the wrong café, right as he faced a high school classmate, friend, and probably something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on, whom had never worked at his usual café. He didn’t say anything, but gulped and swallowed his pride back in, and payed for his espresso by pushing the coins anyway (Ahehoshi would have jumped on the counter to get them: they were undeniably shinier than they should have been).

 “Good evening, sir, thank you for com…”

Silence.

“Hokuto, is that you?!”

That voice was no mistake: this was Anzu, from the Management course. This was going to be painful…

“Ah… Yeah…?” Oh God. What was he supposed to tell her? That he didn’t even know where he was walking anymore? That this was all a giant misunderstanding on his part?  “Yeah.”

“I’m not used to seeing you around here? How are you?”

“…Fine.” Something was missing. “I hope you’re doing well too.”

That wasn’t really good dialogue. Not that Anzu picked up in it: she was probably too busy trying to do her job.

“Here you go, Hokuto…” She put his cup on the counter and picked his coins. “You’re sure you should be drinking that at this time of the day? It’s late and you’ll have a hard time sleeping if you drink that now.” Then she muttered to herself: “looks like you’d benefit from a good night’s sleep too…”

“Thank you, have a goodnight.”

 He picked his cup and went to a table, legs feeling faint. There was nobody still around in the café: clearly, unlike his usual 24/7 place where there always was someone living in the night (the Sakuma brothers trying to avoid each other but finding themselves in the same place and Hajime taking part-time jobs were the firsts to come to his mind), this was a daytime place and he was all aone, stuck with his pounding headache and Anzu cleaning before closing. He had something like fifteen minutes to drink his fuming coffee and get out of there, but even his hands felt sluggish and unresponsive.

Maybe he really wanted to throw that presentation out of the window and just sleep for the next three days. He didn’t even know what he was doing anymore anyway.

 After a few moments, he watched with bleary eyes and eyelids closing on their own Anzu walked to him and sit on the opposite side of the table, staring at him with an expression he couldn’t really read, before her hand arrived on his forehead. It was cold, unnaturally so, and he wondered if she didn’t have blood circulation problems like he was worried he could have had before. Yet, despite his rising concerns, he still let himself lean into it, too tired to really pay attention to how he was behaving. That was bad, awful even. He needed to gulp his coffee, so he did, burnt his tongue and throat, and was about to pack it when he noticed she was still staring at him.

“I… I need to go, is there something wrong?” He asked, hoping this would be enough.

“You…”

Huh. Okay.

“I’m leaving now, I’ll let you close the sh—”

 Black dots appeared in his sight as soon as he got up and he felt his body plunge forward, hand slipping instead of grabbing at the table, vision blurring until all he could feel was hands wrapping themselves around him and faint, muffled sounds resonating in the distance.

It was all over, wasn’t it? He couldn’t move nor feel anymore, right? What a way to end his rush… What way to finish the evening that he was supposed to finish his presentation on… That was his way to go? Huh… Not like he could resist against his own body finally turning on him.

 He had failed in a dramatic fashion, that was for sure.

And, to be honest, he kind of hated it.

[bakurakaboom-blog]

Starbomb Ch. 5

Fandom: BNHA Pairing: Bakugou x Uraraka Genre: Romance and Comedy probably Chapter Summary: Bakugou has a weird dream about Uraraka and cannot bring himself to face her. Hurt, Uraraka tracks him down at his favorite arcade and attempts to at least play a game with him. A/N: I’m continuing this on this blog. Btw.  

Bakugou opened the door to his dorm room, and on his bed, a matured, exceptionally voluptuous Uraraka lied curled up with her long, brown hair sprawled across the silky red sheets - waiting for him. She wore his t-shirt and his socks and his underwear! How did she even get ahold of something like that?

"Hey, Katsuki," she sang as she yawned.

What? Katsuki? Only his family called him that.

His body acted on its own as he lifted her shirt and pulled down her shorts. His hands began to roam her body with reckless abandon.

"Oh, Katsuki," she sang in a different pitch.

"Haha. You like that, huh?" He would never say something like that!

Her reddened cheeks and frequent, happy gasps made her look like an idiot to him. And as sweat dripped down her face, he followed each drop with his eyes down to her giant, open smile. Drool gathered in the corners of her mouth. Even as his hands wandered to squishy places, his stare fixated on her face before he lowered to kiss her with an astounding thirst.

His hands wandered for certain spots.

Touching right there caused that kind of note.

And down there caused that kind of note in a different octave.

He played her like an instrument. As he groped her, her voice inched higher.

"You're the best, Bakugou," she managed to moan.

That situation escalated into new, rhythmic motions and from there into ecstatic sensations that he had yet to feel through combat with a fraction of the physical exertion that he ever put into training.

Then, he felt the most pleasurable explosion he had ever unleashed.

When Bakugou woke up from the apparent dream, he realized that he ruined his sheets. "What the fuck was that!?" he yelled.

Uraraka had tried to interact with Bakugou earlier the following day. She attempted conversations with him, and she even tried to compliment him. To no avail, he shot her down. He had shielded his face from her all day by either turning his entire body away or burying his head in his crossed arms. His actions caused her to check her face a few times in the mirror.

Midoriya may have done that a few times in the past, but he certainly never growled while doing so. Plus, Midoriya would always at least attempt conversing with her.

When she finally saw Bakugou's face after class, every inch had reddened to the hue of his crimson eyes as he twitched and convulsed with what she thought to be hatred. He must have been outraged with her. Following her glimpse of his profile, he about-faced and walked in the opposite direction.

Before his shift in demeanor, they had civil interactions. On the days of their late excursions to see Kotone, they met in the gym for an even later night workout. Then, suddenly, he vanished from her routine. Maybe she complimented him too much, or maybe she poked fun at him too much.

She tried to replay the past few days to see what she may have done wrong.

By the time the weekend arrived, she had noticed her gut feel heavy and a bit emptier. When she passed by Bakugou's dorm room, she lingered near the idea of knocking and confronting him for a chance at rekindling their delicate friendship. If she waltzed up to his private quarters, then he'd almost definitely lash out at her for invading his personal space. That wouldn't work.

Since they lived on the same floor, she overheard Kirishima invite him to an arcade. While she could have brought Iida and Midoriya along, she knew that would be fighting the fire with oil. Bakugou hated them. Instead, she opted to go alone.

On the way there, she assured herself that she wasn't stalking Bakugou. Rather, she practiced some investigative field work to understand her allies. If she could somehow find a way to cooperate with the most stubborn and callous person in her class, then maybe she'd work towards an S-rank cooperativeness grade one day.

No, she didn't have to justify her actions. Genuinely, she wanted to be on good terms with her partner. Just a few days ago, she would tell anyone if they asked that she had made progress.

Uraraka stopped to gulp down a lump in her throat. While she would not be as naive as to assume that she captured Bakugou into a friendship, she mourned his company.

Her family had sent her a bit of spending money. Putting aside the money that she bought had plagued her conscience. Plus, what if this was the wrong arcade?

Nearly an hour passed, and she checked over her shoulder every moment. Maybe she should have invited her friends. If Midoriya were there, then she wouldn't feel like she had squandered her money. However, as she dug through her bag for her final token, she held out hope that Bakugou would show up and make the entire effort worthwhile.

She climbed into an alien-killing game located in a secluded booth and began to load her last token before the black curtains ruffled and ash blond hair poked through. Her already alert eyes grew and glimmered as her heart nearly leaped from her chest. "Bakugou!" she cheered as she eagerly pulled his arm towards her.

A tingling sensation rose to her face as she grinned. All that waiting was worthwhile after all.

"What?" said Bakugou. Of all the games in the building, he played that one the most. And, of all the times he visited that cheap arcade, he had never seen Uraraka there before. "What the hell is going on?" This encounter had to be some intervention.

"Come! Play this with me. Don't tell me that you think I'm gonna beat you," challenged Uraraka as she pointed at Bakugou's face with her free hand just like she rehearsed.

Somehow, his depraved sexual dream dissolved into nothing when he laid eyes on Uraraka's untainted, rosy cheeks. A girl like that couldn't possibly make a face like the woman in his nocturnal fantasy. He sprang at the chance to banter back and mischievously smirked, "Beat me? At Planet of Devastation: Vile Panic Strikes Back? Think again, round-face."

Uraraka showed her teeth when she grinned until she could hardly see through her elated eyes. So then, they had regained their peculiar bond like nothing ever happened. If she could withhold her curiosity of why he acted the way he did, then she just knew that they would have a pleasant time.

Picking up her last coin, she pushed it into the slot. They could enjoy that one game together.

The game began.

A slight notion of doom settled into Bakugou's chest as soon as he sat down next to Uraraka. A unique type of nervous energy rattled his limbs for a few moments before he gulped. Their shoulders grazed each other, and the sudden contact beckoned for him to glance over at her black tank top.

Then, again their shoulders brushed when she leaned over to take a shot at an approaching virtual enemy.

Once more.

Bakugou would have destroyed the toy gun in his hand if he had any less restraint. Grounding his teeth, he cursed upon looking at the score, "Shit." If Uraraka had have worn something that didn't reveal the eye-catching cleavage of her feminine chest, then he would have won. He would have voiced that excuse if it weren't a potential future weakness of his that she could exploit. The fact that he gave a speck of a shit about her fashion choice endlessly irritated him.

By the images of his dreams, he knew what lied beneath that thin cloth anyway.

"Ugh," complained Bakugou. He acknowledged that he shouldn't have allowed his mind to wander back to his NIGHTMARE. Retracting his arm closer to his body, he attempted to keep an adequate distance.

Uraraka thought to herself with authentic disappointment, "I didn't think you'd hold back." A frown dropped onto her face.

Regardless, she couldn't even play a rematch, for she had spent her last coin.

When he didn't respond, she jumped at the opportunity to excuse herself. If she had to admit her poverty in front of him again, she'd probably die. Forcing a yawn, she said, "I was thinking about heading back to the dorms. I'm kinda tired, ya know?" She stretched her arms into the air. "Maybe that can be our rematch for the Sports Festival."

If she wanted to go, then she probably shouldn't have said that.

Bakugou, who, at the time, withdrew into his thoughts to understand what went wrong decided that he rather cover her with his overshirt. And why the fuck did she have to stretch like that? Didn't she know that her breasts bounced when she did that? She pulled that shit in his dream, too.

He shook his head to rid his thoughts and instinctually growled at the flippant remark. "This isn't a fucking rematch. I'm gonna kick your ass for saying that later. Plus, that win is bogus without another round," he grumbled as he shoved coins into the slots. "If you take this seriously, then stop yawning."

"Okay," she agreed as she bit her bottom lip and nodded with a small smile. Uraraka saw that he paid without any snarky remarks, and when the realization hit her, she didn't know how to react. She wouldn't be able to pay him back if he asked - maybe with the few tickets she won. If she thanked him, then he'd probably immediately jump out of the game.

Meanwhile, she noticed her heavy breathing as she glanced over at him with a buoyant heart and a glittery sensation in her cheeks. Maybe she needed to think a little less.

As he slaughtered her in the following round, Uraraka witnessed an amazing combo of 100 kills and joyously squealed, "You're amazing, Bakugou!"

He stopped pulling the trigger and froze in place as his eye twitched and mouth contorted into a tight frown. She moaned those words in his dream. Maybe the two Urarakas had more similarities than he initially thought. Shaking his head again, he reminded himself of the context, and when he narrowly escaped with a victory, he noticed her wide-eyed, obvious stare linger on his face.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she frowned once more. "Sorry. Was that too much?" she asked. "You keep making that twitchy face."

Taking off his black over-shirt, he threw it at her. "No! I'm fine! I just haven't played this in a while, and these cheapskates need to turn up the AC," lied Bakugou.

"Really? I'm actually a little chilly. I shouldn't have worn something so thin. So, thanks, I guess," replied Uraraka as she stuck out her tongue.

"Then hurry up and put it on!" he urged. His shoulders rigidly hunched with each word.

She jumped at the sudden gravity in his growl. "Wah? Put it on? Are you sure?" However, she dressed in his edgy, skull t-shirt. At least, she felt a little warmer. Pleasantly melting into her seat, she raised her eyebrows when she noticed Bakugou shove more coins in for another game.

"Best 3 out of 5, round-face. I'm going to murder you."

"Okay," she nodded as she stifled verbal gratitude and grabbed her toy gun.

Kirishima passed by a few games as he searched for Bakugou. He had suddenly disappeared. Over the past few days, he noticed that Bakugou seemed a lot more flustered and would lash out at anyone around him. Twitchy and boisterous, he even yelled at Kaminari the day before. Then, when they went out to the arcade, he kept his distance and played games alone for the most part.

Something changed, and when he spotted Bakugou across the room in a shadowed booth of his favorite game, he began to stride towards them. That was until he noticed his companion - a girl!

So that was why Bakugou ditched their sparring sessions for the gym on some nights. Maybe they worked out together. Kirishima honestly thought he had taken an interest in Uraraka, but he hadn't seen them converse all that week.

When Bakugou emerged from the game, Kirishima gasped and subsequentially ducked when he caught sight of the girl. She was Uraraka! Covering his mouth, he pumped his fist. "Alright, Bakugou!" he cheered under his breath.

Wait. Did they switch shirts?

Oh man, Kirishima invited Kaminari to come along, but if he wanted today to go smoothly for his friend, he would have to cancel. So, he texted him, "Hey, Bakugou bailed, so let's go to the shitty place closer to the dorm instead."

Meanwhile, Uraraka tried to think of an adequate excuse to get out of revealing her empty wallet to Bakugou. However, he pointed at game after game and shoved coins from his pocket into the slots. She figured that he enjoyed having a punching bag since she had virtually no talent with video games. Maybe something with hand-eye coordination like Dance Dance Revolution would have been better, but she couldn't picture Bakugou playing something that embarrassing.

Bakugou heard Uraraka giggle to herself. Why would she giggle? Was she having fun?

He had no reason to pay mind to what she wanted to play. He had a strict routine of games that he played every time he visited that particular location, but he noticed how fast he burned through his stock of coins. Since Kirishima ditched him, he needed someone to help him get the maximum amount of tickets.

That would be his excuse for letting her stick around. Though, he curiously awaited every second they spent together.

They wouldn't be able to play his typical final game. He noticed her eye the skeeball. They wouldn't get a lot of tickets from that, but if she were good at it, then maybe they could get enough for an adequate prize.

Without warning, he loaded his tokens and turned back to her. "This is really fucking easy, so if you don't get any tickets, then I'll kill you."

Careful not to acknowledge that he willfully paid for her, she raised her eyebrows at his eagerness to play. What a success that day had been. They played together all day like friends would. Even though he cursed and swore at every opportunity, the atmosphere kept a smile on her face. With a spring in her step, she grabbed a ball with the palm of her hands and melodically rolled it up the ramp and directly to the center.

"Jackpot!" alerted the machine as it spat over 1,000 tickets out.

"What? Look, Bakugou!" shouted Uraraka as she jumped and grabbed his arm. "I got the jackpot on the first try!"

Their cheeks centimeters apart, Bakugou scratched his collarbone as he urgently smothered a growing smile until he proudly smirked. Allowing her to hang onto him for a few moments more, he wondered why he didn't want to attack her.

Racing heart, euphoria, and a bit of nausea - that's what he felt with Uraraka by his side.

His palms dripped with sweat. Although they certainly could not continue playing in their position, he failed to push her way and instead groaned, "Alright, round face, keep rolling. We're gonna run out of time."

When she separated from him, she hesitated to continue playing and pulled at a strand of her hair. Maybe she got ahead of herself, for she could have sworn that she saw him smile, too.

Uraraka nearly screamed and cried when she noticed the time on her phone. The cafeteria closed half an hour before. Desperate tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as they stood around the prize booth. Quickly, she wiped her face before saying, "Well, this was fun, Bakugou. We should do this again sometime. Maybe I'll actually beat you at something besides skeeball," she laughed before twirling around to the exit.

His firm hand gripped her shoulder and jerked her back. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" growled Bakugou. "We're going to the same place."

She gasped and pointed to a green shirt that looked like the skin of green grenade. "Bakugou, that's perfect. Did you see that?"

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the article of clothing and slammed his tickets on the counter. "Give that to me!" he demanded. The cashier handed the t-shirt to him with a lofty sigh. "Uraraka, hurry up and get something. I don't want to stay in this dump anymore."

"Me? Uh," Uraraka stammered. "Okay. I want that necklace with the star." Pointing to the yellow, Mario-esque, chubby star on a silver chain, she sucked in her lips to prevent a prevalent smile. She knew not to thank him.

The heroine's stomach growled on their way out the building. She dangled the chain in front of her face and gave herself a victory sign. A token a friendship and triumph hung in her hands. Not every day and certainly not everyone got a chance to befriend the class pugilist. Maybe she felt a little too excited. Her heart hadn't calmed for a while.

Then, again, she was probably just hungry.

As they walked down a darkening city street, neon lights shined on the various storefronts. If only she hadn't spent her money at the arcade, then she'd be able to at least stop at a street vendor.

Bakugou made a turn away from the direction of their school.

In turn, Uraraka stood at the crossroads and watched as Bakugou continued into the shopping district. He glared over his shoulder and said, "Stop standing there like a fucking idiot."

He would never admit this, but Uraraka had bonuses that came along with her useful quirk. He found appeal in the way Uraraka's hair curved around her round face, and the melody of her laugh pleased him as well. Her energetic and passionate adulation boosted his gaming performance, too. Their proximity gave him a rush especially on the off moments their arms bumped into each other.

As he walked, he enjoyed the warmth of her stare on his back.

Rubbing his neck, he figured he had many rational reasons to keep her by his side.

Uraraka sweat bullets the entire stroll to the restaurant of Bakugou's whim, and when she pointed out a familiar, Japanese restaurant, he scolded her for thinking she had any choice in the matter before he entered the traditional style building anyway.

"Don't tell me you're fucking broke. This is the cheapest damn place on the block. I guess poor people like you have to ask for food," Bakugou taunted as he pulled out his wallet that had just enough money to cover her as well. However, being the sadistic guy that he was, he wanted to hear her beg. After all, he already said that he'd take care of her one day. If she wanted to be stubborn enough to reject that offer, then he would have to push her until she came crawling.

Smirking, he glanced up and expected his intimidation to get through to her. Sure, sweat jumped from her glistening face, but her pensive stare furrowed in the direction of her bag. Her permanent blush at the tips of her cheeks paled in comparison to the fluster that he imagined. Why didn't his taunt affect her? He realized that she had run out of money back at the arcade.

A bright, toothy grin popped onto her face as she revealed her plan in the form of a small ticket. "It's okay, cuz I've got some coupons!" she boasted. In fact, she hardly heard Bakugou's rant about her poverty. Holding up two fingers, she added, "2 for 1. I got a whole bunch, so get whatever you want. I got one for a free dessert, too."

Bakugou then wondered how he could ever win over someone as independent as her. He censured with a scoff, "Fuckin' mooch."

Standing up, she dropped everything she held onto the table and lowered her head. "Bakugou," she muttered in a low, shaking voice. "I know you paid for the games we played together because I ran out of money. I was really happy that we could have lots of fun together. And, I know you said you'd pay for me when I got older. But, I don't want that. Quit bullying me for not being able to buy the things that I want."

When Bakugou witnessed her try to leave their booth, his chest wrung and he reluctantly blurted, "Don't tell me you dragged me to this shitty place just to leave me here." He had doubted he could debilitate her that easily, yet there she was - abruptly fleeing from him.

Even though she needed to wipe her face, she knew that doing so would let him know of the tears that fell from her eyes. "I'm trying to be a pro hero. I'm doing my best, and I'm gonna use this damn coupon," she demanded before she plopped back down into her seat.

That side was the girl that Bakugou wanted to see.

He smirked at the fruit of his berating. After all, how many people got to see the gutsy face of Uraraka?

When the waitress came around, Bakugou ordered, "Give me the mapo tofu."

"Me too!" added Uraraka before she corrected her urgent and passionate outburst. "I mean, me, too!"

"How plucky," thought Bakugou as he averted his gaze to the window beside them. He stared at her reflection instead, for looking at her directly on caused his heart to race too fast to the point that he hardly felt like stuffing food into his mouth. In fact, in that moment, he hungered for days like that with her over everything else.

"I'm sorry for blowing up like that," Uraraka apologized. "I should have thanked you earlier, but I was afraid that you'd get mad and leave."

Bakugou had no response. Her thanks meant nothing. Alone, her gratitude neither angered him nor pleased him.

"Now, I'm not gonna back down. I'll tell you whatever I'm thinking because no matter what you're probably gonna get angry, right?" Uraraka laughed as she sipped on the water that the waitress served to her. For that spicy meal, she would probably need a lot.

No, he felt obligated to pay for her as long as she stayed by his side. As she spoke, he shifted from side to side in his seat. He wanted to be with her because he found her company more enjoyable than exploding objects and enemies. These sentiments failed to come to fruition in his silenced mind. Instead, he focused on his growling stomach.

After they had finished eating, Bakugou abruptly snatched the coupon from under Uraraka's nose and threw it across the room while she chugged down the rest of her water.

The anti-gravity girl wondered if he harbored rancor against the ordeal after their "heart to heart." Maybe she held a one sided confrontation with him instead of the breakthrough conversation that she imagined. Bending down, she retrieved the small, crumbled ticket from beneath a table. When she returned, she asked, "Hey, Bakugou, why'd you do that?"

Quickly, he snatched the small sheet of paper from her, blew it up, and then rushed out the building with a frightening shade of blood red illuminating his face.

"What?" she shrieked. What was she supposed to do? That was her only way to pay. Maybe she had another coupon or enough cash to cover her part. She gulped as her trembling hands navigated the pockets of her bag. Why would he do something like that? This predicament was her fault for getting close to Bakugou.

If he used this whole day just to make a fool out of her, then she had no reason to hope for a better friendship. Her chest tightened as tears came to the corners of her eyes. The stress in her heart worsened over her thoughts and memories with Bakugou rather than her monetary dilemma.

The waitress approached her and bowed, "Have a good night."

"Wah?" Uraraka gasped, "I didn't pay."

"Your boyfriend paid for you," explained the waitress. "Young love is tricky like that I suppose."

Boyfriend? Did she mean Bakugou? Before she could think to correct her, Uraraka made eye contact with Bakugou through the window as a grin burst onto her face. He had been waiting for her. She carelessly allowed her residual tears to fall from her eyes as she watched him turn away. Darting down the aisles and out the door, she wanted to hug him, but she knew that would be a straight ticket to a sordid scorn.

Instead, she clasped her hands together behind her back and tried to catch up to him. She noted in a sing-song voice, "You waited for me, and you paid. Thank you a lot. Today was amazing! I had lots of fun."

He tried to pick up the pace so that she didn't see his heated face. "Don't think anything special is happening. I don't want to be seen with people that miss curfew. And," he stammered with a brief pause. "I only had that kind of bill, and I didn't feel like waiting for the change, so consider yourself lucky."

"You're the meanest good guy I know," Uravity pointed out as she stroked the star chain that hung around her neck.

"I don't give a fuck what you think."

Uraraka mused out loud as she looked to the sky, "I hope we have more days like this, you know? Only, next time I'll make sure I can pay for myself. Maybe I could even pay for a meal for you." Of course, she knew that she would have to ride the Bakugou rollercoaster a few more times before she could handle nausea and stress of it all. However, simply hanging out with him outweighed his volatile idiosyncrasies.

"You're never going to fucking pay for me! I already told you how things will go after we get," the blond began until he trailed off because, for some stupid reason, he felt as if reminding her of their future marriage exposed a desire that had dug deeper into his mind than he could handle. With all his might, as he panted and seethed, he could not force out the word "married."

Something inside Bakugou grew as he gulped, and he didn't know how to kill it. However, the next day he had a lot more gusto in his work out.