JAY'S STUDY | back at college

Being able to word yourself properly is something Uraraka would never get good at. She had accepted that. In the four years that she had been writing she had written on different platforms, written different genres had switched her writing style countless amounts of times even after saying "I can definitely say that this is what makes me" so confidently. She had worked with different publishers, had a couple of projects that completely flopped and opportunities she wished she hadn't taken out of desperation.

The experience she gained in those four years of chasing a career that seemed beyond stupid to chase by many, it didn't make her good at wording herself properly.

But the experience she gained in those four years did make it a little bit easier.

Uraraka could word herself better than most.

Would she call herself a good writer? Not necessarily.

But she was good enough to get herself in a position where she was writing for a bestselling lifestyle magazine called ‘Tamami'. Women one and a half times or sometimes twice her age would buy the monthly issues and enjoy the overly romantic pieces she would write. If she would tell any of her high school friends that she would be able to pay the bills by writing old romance novel-like short stories for a magazine they would've been seriously worried about her sanity.

But yet here she was. Her sanity still intact, comfortable living with her cat in a studio apartment in the center of town.

Though this was not exactly what she aimed to do when she decided to be a writer, she sure had a good time doing what she did. Sitting cross-legged at her desk, in front of her laptop, with her hair in a bun that lasted for an embarrassing amount of days. Casually she was listening to soundtracks of popular romantic comedies and occasionally asked her cat for his opinion.

Yes, Uraraka could word herself better than most.

It was only natural that after two years of writing for ‘Tamami' she had a good indication of what her audience craved to read. It's the big dump of e-mails from her readers that made coming up with the next story as easy as pouring a cup of tea. Some e-mails gave a detailed review of her stories, a couple gave constructive feedback and a whole bunch of messages was blatantly sexually tinted. Uraraka had actually read full on sexual stories of her readers before. But even that helped her continue to deliver quality pieces every month.

However, that didn't mean that Uraraka could never get frustrated with her writing. She was determined that knowing exactly what she wanted to write could actually make things more difficult than it should be. Sometimes things she wrote weren't vivid enough. Uraraka wanted to smell the fields the couple she wrote about was standing in, she wanted to feel the heartbeat of the character sync with hers, she wanted to be able to get shivers as if a character had indeed whispered in her ear. Uraraka wanted to feel all of that from reading her piece.

And that, believe it or not, was hard to achieve every now and then.

Some sessions would leave her pouting at her screen for hours on end as she rewrote the same paragraph for countless amount of times. Uraraka would even let her cat walk over her keyboard, hoping that the pet would magically come up with something better than her.

When Uraraka would lose patience with herself she would count to twenty-five, close her document and would then open a blank one.

"…I opened my eyes and I saw the empty space beside me. Instead of rolling over, putting the blanket back over my head and setting myself on wasting the day away, I smiled. I smiled because I knew exactly that I couldn't afford to fall back asleep. The smell of waffles filled the bedroom and the sound of clashing dishes in the sink gave me the indication that they were ready.

Just as I sat up he came walking in the room. Abs glistening from the baking spray that managed to land on him whilst baking. A lazy half-smile of pride on his face and a tray full of golden brown waffles drenched in honey.

For a second it was hard to tell what the real meal was. I would've happily devoured either of them, to be frank. He sat down on the side of the bed and was quick to pick up the fork before I could even reach for it and dig in. The man wanted me to appreciate what he had been working so hard on the whole morning. With a soft smile, I told him that they came out great. As soon as I gave the sign of approval he filled up the fork and stuffed pieces of freshly baked waffle into my mouth. Honey started dripping down the side of my mouth and down onto my exposed breasts and white sheets. He started to take notice of the mess he was creating and stopped feeding me, put the tray with the half-devoured breakfast aside and touched the sticky corner of my mouth with his thumb as he cupped my face. I wanted to shy away from him but again he demanded my full attention. Turned my face back to him and leaned forwards. Between giggles in he would kiss me, our lips practically sticking together as he did. Eventually, his lips started to drift from mine to the rest of the flesh I was showing above the covers.

I knew exactly what this was leading to.

Sex, obviously.

We were both half naked, there was honey involved, which is apparently a sexy food.

Which someone still has to explain to me; how in the world can food actually be sexy?

Honestly, I wasn't the biggest fan of sex. I haven't even done it a lot of times but I have imagined multiple steamy scenarios in my head. When I had sex I was constantly doubting myself which led to a train of thought that ended nowhere. I would think about the taxes I still had to file or that I had to return those jeans that I recently bought in a sorry attempt to change my style.

But I could not not give this man all my attention even if I tried. I could describe how he was looking right now but no amount of fancy adjectives would do him justice. This man was looking like he was he carved out of marble. Smooth and toned just right. And that combined with the way he knew exactly how to move and said the right things at the right moment.

The man was like an actor in a porno where they hired writers that actually cared about the plot.

He was the type of guy that would tell you his favorite color and have a debate with you about issues in today's society whilst putting you to bed.

"You know what pisses me off; the debate about plastic straws. Until I see a turtle choke on plastic I will not stop using the damn things." He would say whilst kissing your neck.

He also seemed like the type of guy that would coax you through the whole act. And not the usual "you're doing so well sweetheart" that seemed to be a standard line for men. But kind of like a soccer coach. Maybe a bit stern, but you know he's doing it out of love.

Yeah.

Having sex with him was probably like speed dating your soccer coach that also happened to do high-quality porn.

Which is honestly the best you could wish for."  

When it all gets a bit too much it was nice to just write whatever you wanted, how awfully you wanted. So awful that Uraraka could look back at the work in progress for the magazine and think "it actually could be much worse".

So writing pieces like these did not only help Uraraka with the obstacles her perfectionism created but it was to get those particular thoughts out of her system. The man Uraraka wrote about and had so for so times, was, in fact, Bakugou Katsuki, her editor. An amazing and underrated editor who she happened to stumble upon in a coffee shop. They were sitting next to each other, working on their respective stories but Bakugou couldn't help but peek at her screen every now and then. Uraraka, who eventually got fed up with her since his silent judgment stopped her from writing asked him what he was thinking. And it was as if he was waiting for it because he sure didn't hold back. Uraraka was more impressed than offended in the end and continued to work with him for the rest of the afternoon.

Bakugou had been editing for Uraraka for a year now.

And over that year she had developed a huge crush on.

When Uraraka realized that she felt that way about her editor she instantly decided to never confess. It would bring too many problems that she really didn't fancy facing. Not only their friendship but their work relationship would be in ruins, to the point of no return.

"What do you think of plastic straws Waddles?" Uraraka pulled the Bengal cat off her desk and onto her lap. He cradled underneath against her neck and purred as she carefully stroked the cats tail.

"Interesting views," she laughed.

Uraraka kissed the top of the cats head and put him down on the floor.

Now that was out of her system she could try to make something of her draft. She was actually cutting it close to the deadline and knew Bakugou had recently got other work he needed to attend to. Uraraka was happy people had finally started to recognize Bakugou's talent and were now getting eager for him to edit their work. Though he said that her pieces are still his priority because that simply "came first", she didn't want to be too much of a bother.

And it had already proven to be difficult.

Quickly she saved the short story and opened back the monthly piece for ‘Tamami'. Uraraka put her earphones back in her ear and continued writing. She started to get pulled into the story again which made the words flow out of her easier. She managed to come up with a few twists that she wouldn't even have considered at first but now thought they could work. As Uraraka's fingers kept dancing over the keyboard, the soft smile she was wearing on her face got larger. The scenes she wanted to write out were clear as day to her and everything her characters felt, she felt too. Her chest felt heavy, like every emotion she described.

Uraraka kept on typing and typing and eventually thought of a proper way to end her story. It almost felt a little sad that there had to be an end. She had so much more in store for the two lovebirds in her story. But guidelines were guidelines so the story had to continue in her head instead.

The writer straightened her back and rubbed her eyes after writing the closing sentence. She had now only noticed that her ears had become immune to the sound of the song she had put on repeat for almost two hours on end. Between rereading her story she tried to find a song that fit her mood properly. Between interludes, she could hear strange noises in the distance. She chose to ignore them until she heard something clashing to the floor. She threw the earphones out of her ears and turned around in her chair. Uraraka then checked the time in the bottom right of her laptop screen and she instantly knew.

"Waddles! Waddles what the heck have you done?" She shouted toward the kitchen.

All she got back from him was a single ‘meow' which she sensed had an annoyed undertone.

See Uraraka's cat could be quite impatient. He knew exactly around what time he got fed every day and if there wasn't any food in the bowl at that time a day, he would get fed up. Fed up to the point that the pet would decide to make food for itself. He would go into the kitchen and make a ruckus trying to open cabinets and knock pots over in his quest to look for anything to eat.

"Can't believe it's half past eight already," Uraraka sighed as she pushed herself away from her desk to then immediately grab it and pull herself back towards the screen of her laptop. "It's half past eight!" she yelled as she had processed what she said.

"I should've e-mailed this to Bakugou by now, I-"

Another thing fell to the kitchen floor and Uraraka's neck snapped back to the doorway. She saw kibble spilling all out of a big bag coating the majority of the kitchen floor.

"Crap!"

Quickly Uraraka opened her Gmail and formed an e-mail. As fast as her hands could possibly move around she typed out a small message to Bakugou, apologizing for the tardiness and thanking him again for his time and effort. Hoovering above the chair she put the document in attachments and sent it.

Uraraka then strode into the kitchen to attend to her impatient pet. Swooped him off the floor as he was heavily enjoying the mess he created.

"It really doesn't hurt you to wait a little bit you know?" She picked the crumbs out his fur and couldn't help but laugh at the cat. "You feel no shame, do you? You just ate food off the floor like a barbarian."

Waddles didn't feel a single ounce of shame as he tried to escape from Uraraka's grip and fall back into his food. After a bit of struggling Uraraka put the cat down in the living room. Before Waddles could make his way back into the kitchen she grabbed a broom and started to sweep together all the kibble. With her leg, she gently pushed Waddles away who tried to get to the food.

"Don't worry, I'll whip something up for you that's not coated with dirt from the floor."

Uraraka slightly cringed as she threw away the cat food which was honestly not the most economical thing on the grocery list, thanks to the king's taste buds. As she prepared a proper dinner for Waddles she thought about what Bakugou could be thinking as he read her story. She wondered how he felt when he read her work. She hoped he felt everything she felt when writing it. Or to some degree at least. Uraraka thought it would be a whole achievement if she managed to get the lightest blush on his face.

Uraraka felt her face grow hot at the thought.

She continued to put the prepped ingredients together for the homemade cat food whilst touching her face every few minutes or so. After putting the meal in the cat bowl Uraraka warmed up pasta she postmated yesterday for herself. With a bottle of vitamin water under her arm, she brought the two meals to the dining table. She sat down and next to the leg of her chair she put down Waddle's bowl.

"See, isn't that much better, mister? Wasn't that worth the wait?" She asked as she spread out her own food, scratching Waddle's side with her food as she did. The cat softly purred against her touch and she giggled.

She went to talk to her cat about everything she wanted to get done before she went to sleep, about everything she wanted to do in the morning and all the other things that came to mind.

As Uraraka tried to gather the remaining sauce from her pasta onto her fork she heard the familiar ping of an incoming e-mail. She leaned in to check the now lit up screen and saw that it was an e-mail from Bakugou. Confused she pressed the home button on her phone and checked the time.

"That's…Fast," Uraraka said to Waddles. "Even for him, that's…"

She cleared the dining table and brought the dishes to the kitchen, still facing the laptop screen that was slowly dimming. Uraraka came back to find Waddles already at her desk, facing his snout upwards. With a confused frown still stuck on her face she sat down and lit up the dimming screen again.

Uraraka opened the e-mail and to her surprise, there was only a short message. She ruffled her bangs and squinted.

"Dadada…"Are you sure this is the work you want to hand in for this month?"" She read.

She read the sentence a couple of times and every time she found it harder to believe what she had read. Uraraka fell back against her chair in disbelief.

He had to be kidding.

What she handed in was one of the best works she had written. By a mile. She was so sure of it but Bakugou did not seem to believe so. Uraraka read the sentence out loud. Immediately a sense of frustration came to her.

What a kind of question…

There's no further elaboration as to why he had asked her that either. The nerve! Of course she was sure!

"Of course I'm sure," she typed out, frustration causing her fingers to twitch.

Without any sign off she replied to Bakugou's e-mail and then immediately logged off.

Uraraka wondered if she should ask him for a reason behind the kind of crude e-mail. But she wondered how she would be able to take whatever he had to say about her piece. She valued his opinion a lot and if he really did dislike the piece, as she had come to think because of his lack of elaboration, then she had no idea what that would do her writer's spirit. Uraraka had so many ideas for future stories and felt like she could write them all the next day if physically possible. That could be gone in a second.

She was used to Bakugou's brutal editing but rarely ever did he doubt the actual story. Said the bare minimum about it but in the few words he used, you could tell he enjoyed the small world for two Uraraka managed to create every month.

If Uraraka would've asked for Bakugou's honest opinion, she wouldn't have been able to change it anyway, even if she could. Bakugou was sending her piece straight to the publisher, instead of sending it back to her. There had been trouble there lately when it came to time management and deadlines Bakugou had informed her. Had then asked her to allow him to send her piece straight to the publicist for however long they were in trouble.

A week and a half later ‘Tamami' published their September edition. Days, after it came out Uraraka, went to look at the final product.

Uraraka walked to the nearest tobacco shop with a with a tight chest. She now had no clue how her story was going to be received by her readers. When thinking about the worst possible reactions Uraraka frowned and sank deeper into her coat. Before entering the bookstore she looked through the shop window. Right in front of her was this month's edition. Never before had they displayed the magazine. And never before did they advertise it by hanging up a poster on the window, saying that it was being sold here and mentioning specifically that it mentioned her work.

She looked into the shop and saw that in the magazine corner ‘Tamami' was being restocked. There were even several people grabbing it straight from the box and walking to the counter. Uraraka walked into the shop and met the shopworker that was in charge of restocking the magazines. She gently tapped on his shoulder and perked out the collar of her coat.

"Excuse me but, what's going on?"

The worker turned around and smiled brightly when he saw her face. He took her by the shoulder and squeezed tight. "Ochako, darling, there you are! Our little star of the neighborhood, you've really done it now!"

The people at the counter turned their heads towards them. Uraraka leaned out of their line of sight behind a shelf.

"What have I done exactly?" Uraraka awkwardly chuckled.

"You dear, have been responsible for almost half my revenue this week. People have been coming in here just to get a copy of the magazine, Ochako, they are in love with your work!" The shopworker went on to say.

Uraraka's eyes widened. "They are?"

"We are!" The two women at the counter were now approaching Uraraka waving their newly bought copies in their hand.

"Sorry to eavesdrop," a woman with a short bob and gleamy eyes said to her. "But we couldn't help but overhear the conversation."

"But are you really Uraraka Ochako? Are you really thé Uraraka Ochako?" The other woman, with a pink-dyed pixie cut and very shaky hands added.

Before Uraraka could ever get a word out, the shopworker proudly confirmed that she was in fact ‘thé Uraraka Ochako'. She could only nod at the two women. The two shared a look before exploding into chattering. It was hard to make any sense of what the two were saying but it was obvious that they were beyond excited. Uraraka had never really dealt with those kinds of conversations before. She usually would get reactions like this online, where she could take the time to process the kind words and find a proper way to reply to them, after a little bit of squealing of course. But now the only thing she could bring herself to say was;

"Thank you so much."

Luckily the women could laugh at her flustered response.

"This might sound silly but can I have your autograph?" The woman with the bob asked.

"Oh me too, me too!"

They started flipping through their magazines and Uraraka looked back at the shop worker. He just proudly smiled back at her and handed her a pen from the pocket on his shirt. Hesitantly, she turned to the open magazines and felt butterflies as she finally saw the printed version.

"You know Toshiko said at work? That she honestly wasn't able to look at honey the same way ever again.

Uraraka perked up.

"I know that she means. God, I can't wait to read that part again at my own pace now that I've finally got a hands on a copy of my own."

The writer slowly shook her head. "Honey? I didn't mention…"

Her eyes started scanning the pages of the magazine and her eyes started falling on certain words that caused her chest to become even tighter than before she walked into the store.

"C-can I…Can I hold that for a second?" She pointed at one of the copies.

The woman with the pixie cut handed her copy and Uraraka immediately buried her face between the pages.

"A lazy half-smile of pride on his face…"

"Honey now dripping down the side of my mouth…''

Uraraka closed the magazine. "Alright, this is…That's…"

Her eyes started closing and before she could grab onto something she fell on her knees and slide face first across the store's carpet.

The first thing Uraraka felt when she came to was the slight carpet burn on her face. With her eyes, half closed she slowly put her hand on her left cheek. As she stroked her face, she tried to get back on her feet. The slightest movement of her leg sent people yelling and grabbing her arms.

She fully opened her eyes and saw a handful of worried faces looming over her.

"What in the world…" Uraraka mumbled. She looked around herself and saw the magazine laying on the ground.

"…That's wonderful," she sighed as she could already feel herself getting lightheaded again. Uraraka held onto a shelf and tried to keep herself on her feet. Immediately people came to her assistance to help her up and looked at her with worried eyes as she kept staring at the magazine.

"…I…I need to go," Uraraka stammered. Before anyone could hold her back she walked out of the tobacco shop.

Alright, this was happening.

This was really happening.

Her incredibly sexually tinted fantasy story about her editor had been published in ‘Tamami'. People have read her incredibly sexually tinted fantasy story about her editor. People seemed to love her incredibly sexually tinted fantasy story about her editor.

On her phone, she searched for other bookstores in town and pinned her route to the closest one. Took the subway and ended up in an unfamiliar part of town. After a bit of stumbling around she reached the bookstore and saw the same thing as in her neighborhood's tobacco shop; they were restocking the magazine. Uraraka rushed to the clerk and stuck her head under her nose.

"Sorry, how fast have these been selling out?" The writer asked.

"Too fast if you ask me! This is the third time I had to restock them this week. I haven't even been able to get my own copy yet, and I work here!" The clerk grumbled as she kept putting the magazines on the shelf.

"Do you have the exact number of sales? I'm Uraraka Ochako, one of the writers of the magazine and I would just like to-"

The girl jerked her head back. "Wait, you're Uraraka Ochako?!"  

Again, heads turned at the sound of her name but now costumers came flying to the source straight away. All with their copies of ‘Tamami' tightly clutched to their chest, asking for confirmation if she was, in fact, the writer everyone was currently talking about. Uraraka could barely make herself understandable above the noise but she managed to confirm that it was her.

"It's not your usual style but I absolutely loved it nonetheless!"

"Can you please write more stories like this? Or just a whole book perhaps?"

"This was so genuine! I could relate to the main character so well!"

The writer got showered with compliments and though as embarrassing as this whole thing was, it did her good to hear that something she didn't even consider anything decent was being received so well. Uraraka thanked the readers and signed a few copies here and there. After that, she left the bookstore and traveled to a few others where things kept repeating themselves.

The magazine would be selling better than ever before, people would come up to her and gush about this month's story and she would sign a few copies here and there.

Uraraka spent the whole day walking around town from bookstore to bookstore in complete awe, feeling better and better about circumstances.

Her readers have actually managed to make the best out of a bad situation.

When she got back to her apartment she was eager to jump behind her laptop to finally check the e-mails from readers she had been stacking up in the past days. On her way from the front door to her desk, she got stopped by Waddles, walking right in front of her feet. Not being able to maneuver past him, she groaned and picked him up.

"This is one of the few times I stayed out the house for so long, you should at least be a little proud of me, right?" Uraraka moaned.

Owner and pet kept glaring at each other until Uraraka was the first one to lose composure. She tickled the cat under his chin and watched his face turn softer.

"But you just need the constant attention, don't you?" She softly spoke.

Uraraka carried Waddles in her arms to her desk and put him next to her laptop. She put away her coat and put her hair down before sitting down and letting Waddles use her lap as a pillow. She opened her mailbox and saw it had been completely bombarded with e-mails. This was the first time that she had to click the next button in her mailbox.

There were a lot of positive reactions. An occasional reader being sad that she veered away from her usual style but most people were excited about it. ‘Excited' could be taken in multiple ways. Uraraka had never received so many horny e-mails before. And it was somewhat to be expected but twenty-three emails that were not, no, definitely not safe for work? That was definitely a record broken.

Most of the horny e-mails were a good laugh nonetheless, she had woken up Waddles a few times because of them.

Slowly the writer cleared her mailbox and reached the most recent ones. When she saw a particular e-mail address, she felt her heart skip a beat. Uraraka would be lying if she said she hadn't forgotten about them for a second. A reader who had been reading her work ever since her work just started to get published in ‘Tamami'. Their e-mails were always almost like essays, very detailed reviews of the story and how much they enjoyed it. They were as honest as they could be with her and had honestly made her reflect on her writing almost as much as Bakugou did.

It was always exciting to see what they had to say.

""…I have to say I was surprised when I read this month's story. I-"…Waddles please, you have enough other toys to plays with," Uraraka scolded the cat.

But the cat remained intrigued by the light coming from her phone screen. She turned the screen around and continued reading the e-mail. Uraraka got closer to the screen as she kept reading it and felt herself smiling brightly at all the kind words.

"…I've noticed that you never write in first person. I have read the story a couple of times now and I've got the feeling that you were heavily inspired by someone close to you. Heavily inspired is a term I use lightly here."

Out of anyone they would have been the first one to clock, wouldn't they?

Uraraka rarely responded to fan mail but she felt a little caught by the anonymous critic. Curious to what made them exactly come to the conclusion she opened a new message to reply.

"What gave it away?"

Uraraka sent the message and bit the tip of her thumb. In the corner of her eye, she noticed light emanating from her phone screen again. She looked around, saw that Waddles had found another way to entertain himself and then grabbed her phone.

"Text messages from…Bakugou?"

Katsuki Bakugou, 16:24 PM: Are you around?

Katsuki Bakugou, 18:15 PM: Never mind.

Uraraka scratched her head.

Ochako Uraraka, 18:18 PM: Why? What's up?"

Only moments later a call from Bakugou came in. Uraraka jumped and threw her phone in the air. Just about managed to catch it and save herself from pressing decline.

"H-Hello?"

"Uraraka…Did I not call at the right time?" Bakugou asked.

Uraraka covered the mic of her phone with her hand and took a deep breath. It was always something else to speak with Bakugou on the phone but now considering this had been their first conversation since her story got published especially.

Once she got her breathing steady she put the phone back to her ear. "No, it's fine, it's fine. Why did you call?"

"It's about the celebratory dinner? Don't tell me you forgot to check your private e-mail account again."

"What? No! Of course not!" Uraraka sputtered as she opened her private e-mail account and saw the e-mail from the magazine's headquarters, about how they were hosting yet another celebratory dinner. This time for Uraraka.

It was an incredibly sweet gesture but, that sort of thing just wasn't for her. She hadn't been to a single dinner where she didn't feel stupidly out of place. They always ate at places that were way too fancy for their own good. Where everything was in French but somehow French fries didn't exist on the menu. Where you would have a napkin on your nap and no one would bother to explain what it was exactly for. Places where she could easily embarrass herself and often did.

It wasn't exactly Bakugou's cup of tea either. They had gradually gravitated from sitting across from each other to next to each other and started to complain about everything they could possibly complain about during every dinner. Have even started dreading the dinners before they were invited.

"I can't even pronounce the name of this restaurant…" Uraraka mumbled.

She continued to scan through the e-mail until her eyes fell on the time.

"I have to be there in an hour, are you kidding me?! I'm not even remotely ready!"

"So you did forget," Bakugou scoffed.

Uraraka could hear the cheekiness in his voice but was too busy panicking to even think of sassing him. She stood up and walked to her bedroom.

"I really have to go, there's a lot of stuff I need to do. Oh man, I haven't even thought of how I'm going to get there. That place is probably on the other side of town as well."

"I can come and pick you up," Bakugou offered.

Through the sound of clashing clothing hangers, Uraraka could hear Bakugou typing in the background. The guy had most likely been editing all day and was even looking less forward to the whole happening than usual. She didn't exactly want to be that much more of a nuisance by making him play taxi.

"Thank you but you don't have to, really," Uraraka said as she smelled a dress she found at the bottom of her closet.

"Oh shut it. You don't want to be late to your own fucking dinner right? I'll be at your apartment in thirty, be ready."

Before Uraraka could put up any resistance Bakugou had hung up on her. Distraught she looked at her phone and sighed. She didn't have any time to call him back and argue with him. She still had to shower, make herself somewhat presentable and mentally prepare herself for all the questions she had to answer about the story whilst Bakugou was sitting next to her.

Uraraka decided that the dress she sniffed was good enough. It didn't smell too bad and she believed none of her coworkers had seen her in it before. In record time she jumped in and out of the shower and messed around with make-up as much as her skillset allowed her.

With wobbly knees, Uraraka slowly walked in her heels to her mirror. She turned around and then nodded at herself, coming to the conclusion that was as good as it was going to get. Waddles had cared to join her in front of the mirror, but only to come and beg for a meal.

She tried to strut into towards the kitchen but stopped in front of her desk.

Would the anonymous critic have replied?

She moved the mouse, the screen lit up and they had indeed replied.

"You can't make up those emotions and thoughts. Not even the best of writers can."

Uraraka swallowed before opening another e-mail to reply.

"I can't deny that no. The story was something very personal yes, that most likely shouldn't have seen the light of day. So far, you're the only one that's on to me. It's actually rather embarrassing so can you please do me a favor and keep this a secret between us? Can you promise?"

Send.

That was the right thing to do, right? Fighting the accusations could have brought up discourse. And right when her career was thriving, that was the last thing she wanted. Things could easily spin out of control and that could make her the laughing stock of ‘Tamami' in no time.

It was in her best interest to keep this long-time fan a friend.

As she made dinner for Waddles she kept listening for the sound of a notification, but it didn't come. After she put down the cat's bowl full of homemade cat food in the kitchen, she shuffled to her laptop to double check.

There was really no reply from them.

"Oh God, I'm scre-,'"  A loud buzzer cut Uraraka off.

Immediately Uraraka jolted and rushed to the door.

That had to be Bakugou.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her stance before opening the door.

"You didn't have to come u-"

"I promise."

Uraraka blinked at the guy standing in the hallway. In response, she laughed and shook her head.

"You what?"

Bakugou pushed past her into her apartment and went to lean against the wall opposite her.

"I said I promise. I can promise to keep it a secret between us," he elaborated.

A moment of silence past between them, which was eventually broken by hysterical laughter from Uraraka.

This was something she couldn't comprehend. This was some sort of joke her brain just couldn't process. As she kept laughing she pointed back at her laptop.

"So you're telling me that…that you're…" Uraraka hiccupped.

She couldn't even finish her sentence without bursting into laughter again. Fell against the wall opposite Bakugou as she grabbed her stomach that was starting to ache.

Through her tears, she saw Bakugou cocking his brow. Gradually the writer collected herself and stopped laughing. She took a good look at Bakugou and then her face went blank.

"Wait, are you serious?

Bakugou gestured at his face. "I'm not exactly laughing my ass off am I?"

"Oh…Now if you could excuse me…"

Uraraka felt herself getting weak at the knees and prepared herself for another fall. As her eyes closed an arm went around her waist and a tug at her wrist. The sudden touch caused her eyes to shoot back open.

"Fucking hell, you're something else," Bakugou groaned.

He put her right back up, kept his arm around her waist. Uraraka's eyes darted from his arm to his face which was suddenly incredibly close to hers.

"You know I don't even like honey that much," he complained.

"Really?" Uraraka said genuinely baffled, she figured anyone would like honey on their waffles after all.

"But would do you like then?" She asked.

"Take a guess," he made his voice low, eyes flicking from her eyes to her mouth.

As he leaned in Uraraka held her breath.

"Oh God, this is happening," she murmured.

Bakugou opened his eyes and glared at her.

"Sorry."

Uraraka closed her eyes and through her lashes, she saw Bakugou smile before putting his lips on hers. Their mouths started to part and her breath hitched.

She had written about Bakugou kissing her countless amount of times. But none of that compared to the way he was kissing her there and then. She didn't expect it to live up to her fantasy, no, to be even better than her fantasy.

Uraraka's arms curled around his neck and she smiled against his lips. Steadily she slowed down the pace of the kiss and pulled away from his touch.

"But seriously, what do you like?"