Disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia or any other copy-righted material.


She's No Angel


WARNING: There is GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION AHEAD. Read with that in mind!


Chapter 4: He's Weird

Living with Katsuki Bakugou was nothing like Uraraka had ever anticipated. It wasn't that she really had any expectations for the arrangement anyway.

She had at least expected him to be somewhat obnoxious, maybe always screaming, declaring war on people, breaking furniture, things of that nature.

However, he was surprisingly boring.

It was utterly disappointing.

Bakugou was usually up a lot earlier than she was, he cooked breakfast, left some for her, and then he didn't turn up again for another several hours, and when he got home he was sweaty and dirtied with grime and smudges of some kind of soot, he usually always took a long shower, then, at long last, he ate with her.

Then sometimes they would exchange a few small words without any real meaning behind them and then he would disappear into his room for the night. Even going down to the way he dressed himself each day was the same.

He really only veered towards dark colors, the same typical baggy pants and tight top vibe. He had so many black t-shirts he might as well have had a uniform.

She also thought that he was strangely solitary.

She had known him since high school and his personality was…well…unique and very abrasive. So 'abrasive' he often resorted to physical violence when expressing his emotions.

So, this quiet and collected version compared to the Bakugou she remembered kind of freaked her out. Was he always this calm? It kind of felt like she was peeping into a part of his secret life that was private.

Not to mention, recently, alcohol withdrawals were a bitch.

She hadn't realized just how dependent she'd become over the last few years of her pitiful existence on the numbing effects of alcohol to keep her sane. She had relied on its properties to wipe her mind clean enough that she could sleep through the night and forget all the other shit clouding her head.

Nightmares never occurred when she was black-out drunk, that was ninety percent of the reason why she even drank to begin with. But seriously withdrawals were really something else. She didn't know they were going to make her this sick.

As boring as Katsuki was in her opinion, he was oddly attentive when she consistently broke his rule about 'needing a babysitter'. It wasn't like she asked him for his help but he always seemed to be perceptive of when she was incapable of doing something simple like getting ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

She didn't like how she didn't mind his nagging.

It was...kind of nice...having someone worry about her...

It made her feel kind of spoiled.

This development had only further supported her theory that Bakugou must've hit his head really hard one day while he was fighting fires, and his personality had been switched with some random good Samaritan's.

Whatever the reason, she had regrettably been spending the better half of a week, since the two of them had come to an agreement about her living there, throwing up every possible scrap of food in her system. Her body took turns alternating between shivering and sweating as the toxins left her system from years of buildup while she lied in bed trembling.

Her head pounded so hard that at times she had begged for Bakugou to buy her anything with alcohol, even cough syrup. She was practically kissing his feet so he would just maybe give in. But he never did supply her. He was still a stubborn ass that hadn't changed.

She inevitably always woke up finding pain killers and a bottle of water by her bedside, which was also always unexpected.

But now she was finally coming around to reality once again. She could think clearer than she had in a long time. And oddly she had yet to have another nightmare so far. She didn't know how long that would last, but she was grateful for the time being.

A yawn escaped Uraraka's tired lips as she raised herself up and let the sheets fall around her slender form. She could feel the heat of the sun streaking in through the windows and beaming onto her skin in stripes of light. She groaned and shuffled out of the bed, yanking on the same pair of Bakugou's sweatpants that she'd not so graciously demanded from him.

She caught sight of the time as she rubbed her eyes, it was already eight in the morning so Bakugou should have been gone by now.

Right on schedule. She thought to herself as she headed towards the kitchen to see what kind of tasty concoction, he'd left for her today. She was honestly somewhat excited since she might not just hurl it into the toilet like the previous day's breakfast.

Upon entering the expanse to the kitchen, she paused, feet planted in shock when she saw a head of tussled blonde hair and a muscled arm flipping, what looked like, pancakes on the stove.

"Wha…" she mumbled. Still not fully awake, and still half-convinced she hadn't ever woken up to begin with.

The head of blonde hair turned to the side and blinked back at her dumbfounded expression. Nope, it was Bakugou, that was for sure. She knew that half-assed 'what-the-fuck-are-you-staring-at' scowl anywhere.

"Morning." He grumbled tersely and turned back towards his cooking.

She rubbed her eyes once again and pinched herself for good measure, but low and behold she was fully conscious and this was no dream.

"I thought you had work? You're usually gone by this time." She stated as she took a seat on the couch and laid her ruffled head lazily on the edge of it's back so she could face Bakugou.

"Yeah no shit, except I asked for the day off." He shot back, sliding off two perfectly cooked pancakes onto plates, and reaching to turn the stove off.

Damn if he wasn't a good chef, there was a sickly-sweet smell wafting up from the stove and invading her to the very core of her senses. She wanted to snatch the food away right this second and stuff a handful of it into her mouth. It made her somewhat jealous that Katsuki was so good at this kind of thing, she was a lost cause when it came to food.

Usually her cooking ended in a fire or a burnt, and charred crisp.

"Why?" she pried further, not particularly concerned either way, but this was something new in her boring day.

"Well as much as it just fills my stomach with fucking butterflies that a chick is wearing my clothes…" he began hoarsely, and moved to sit beside her, pushing a plate of the steaming breakfast into her lap.

"…we need to get your shit out of that place and you don't have a car." Ochako narrowed her hazel eyes, somewhat embarrassed and confused as to why he continued to help her despite her being an eternal fuck-up with a nasty attitude. She wasn't that nice to him. And she certainly wasn't 'care-free' as her name implied.

"Bakugou you don't need to do that." She said quietly poking at the food in her lap. It made her feel bad that he was freely doing nice things for her. She wasn't asking him too. Why did he care anyway? Did he want something from her?

"Oi don't make that face, this is just what's convenient for me. I don't wanna keep doing laundry at twice the amount I have been since you came here. Plus, I'm sure you don't want to keep waking up to all of Kirishima's 'manly' posters and junk every day. So just accept that this is what we're doing today, got it?" Uraraka took note that he wasn't making eye contact with her, he was staring straight down at his meal and purposely avoiding her insightful gaze. She sighed and felt a small smile tug at her lips.

He was so obvious.

Bakugou was someone who a lot of people couldn't really understand, but he'd always been like an open book when it came to the two of them communicating.

It was all about reading between the lines of what he was saying and ignoring the harsh tone he put behind the words he chose. He'd always tried to hide the fact that he was a considerate friend. He really did a lot for those he cared about.

Uraraka honestly had just never expected him to treat her in that way. She'd always thought that privilege was strictly reserved for Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.

But for whatever reason he'd decided to choose her as well?

No, surely this was all a ploy to get something from her.

What did he want? She had no money, no friends, no job. All she had was the skin on her back and if he wanted that…well…it didn't really matter anymore she was soiled goods.

If he wanted the broken trash of what was left inside of her and to take away from her he could have it. It wasn't worth a damn.

Stupid boy, she didn't need his kindness or pity, whichever of the two emotions that was influencing him. She wasn't returning any of it. She was too far gone.

"Fine." She hissed spitefully.


"Uh I hate to point this out Bakugou but that's not a car." Uraraka stifled a giggle as she took in the annoyance flaring prominently in the vein on Bakugou's forehead.

"Uraraka just get on damnit!" he growled shoving a pink helmet in her direction, his eyes comically angry.

Ochako took the helmet from him and looked over the motorcycle curiously. It had a circular headlight in the front and yellow paint on most of the body that was exposed. She should have expected that this would be Bakugou's first choice of vehicle. Afterall the vibe he was always trying to put out was 'I'm a badass'.

Katsuki revved the throttle on the machine impatiently. She slid the helmet over her head and hesitantly moved closer to climb on.

"Oi, hold it." She heard him halt her, his hand extending outwards to prevent her from advancing further.

She glared at him confused, eyebrow raised, until she noticed he was removing his dark leather jacket. She felt the smooth material graze across the backs of her fingers.

"Wear it, I forgot that other assholes aren't used to the wind pressure." He explained briefly, gesturing for her to take the jacket once again. She smirked deviously and cocked a hip out to the side. A sly smirk tugging at her lips.

"I thought you were sick of me wearing your shit." She snickered at the unamused roll of Bakugou's amber orbs.

"Shut it." He spat. Relenting, she appeased the fiery blonde by sliding the blackened leather over her shoulders and hopping onto the back of their ride. This errand was beneficial for her anyways.

"Angel…Round-face you gotta hold on tight." Ochako's body stiffened at his initial mistake, and then stayed tense as what Bakugou said sank in. She clenched her fingers into small balled-up fists, and raised her arms upwards slowly. She wasn't going to let him see how nervous she was getting.

Uraraka you're being ridiculous! She chastised herself, and gingerly gripped the material of Bakugou's shirt.

She hadn't been this close to a man in years and it terrified her.

Images of raking hands and uncomfortable intrusions invaded her mind.

"The hell kind of pansy ass hold is that?" he taunted unknowingly, revving the throttle once again.

She closed her eyes to try and shut out the apprehension she felt surfacing in her chest.

How could she explain to somebody, that hadn't been violated in the ways she had, how uncomfortable physical contact made her?

How was she supposed to ever tell someone how ashamed she was of the things she had been forced to do?

This was a hurdle she hadn't really had to combat just yet. But the thought of having to explain why she felt so unsettled to Bakugou, verses the act of just wrapping her arms around his sturdy form made the choice easier.

She rested her cheek against his firm, toned back, and pressed herself close against him, gripping tighter and screwing her brown eyes completely shut.

This wasn't what she had prepared for this morning.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

She kept repeating those words as the chill of the wind snaked across her skin and made every hair stand on end. Minutes passed by and she could only concentrate on not remembering the faces trickling across the backs of her eyelids from the deepest and darkest corners of her memory.

I'm in control. This is still in my hands.

She was so consumed in forgetting the uneasy feelings bubbling inside of her that she failed to notice that she and Katsuki's ride had come to a slow stop.


"Uraraka." Bakugou's gentle call did not reach her ears. He switched off the key to the bike and heard the engine settle into silence. Then, he raised a hand to rest on top of hers.

"Uraraka, you're shaking." His call was more insistent this time and Uraraka released her vice-like hold on him, and jolted away from his backside, sucking in a shaky breath.

Katsuki stayed put not moving to get off or trying to look back at her expression. He wondered once again what had happened in her past that had affected her so much that she couldn't hardly touch him without nearly having a panic attack.

Was he really that scary?

Maybe he was expecting too much since he didn't know her entire story, he thought pensively.


"W-What're you doing, idiot? This isn't my place." She spat out, embarrassed by her reaction as she scrambled off of the motorcycle and onto the pavement trying to regain her usual hard-ass composure.

She watched carefully as Bakugou climbed off and removed his own helmet, letting it rest over the handle of his bike, and then pocketed the keys.

She could see an unreadable light in his crimson gaze as he looked her over silently. When he'd finished his inspection, he sighed. She felt a pang of annoyance flood into her veins.

What the hell was he looking at?

"You said it yourself cheeks, I don't have a car, so Kirishima's letting me borrow his truck for the day." Bakugou looked frustrated as he stalked towards the apartment complex they had parked beside. She was unaware that Bakugou was currently brooding over his decision to take her with him to come and pick up the truck. He was angry at himself that he hadn't thought the fact through that she might not love being on the back of motorcycle like he did.

The beat of the wind helped to clear his head but he hadn't even considered what would be going through hers.

Uraraka stayed put and let him go on alone, not loving the idea of talking to Kirishima or whoever Kirishima was living with. She needed a minute to breath and chill the frustration boiling beneath the surface of her fair skin.

It wasn't long before she saw the blonde man return, his loafers hitting the pavement with a soft and steady thumping sound.

Seriously, did his wardrobe ever change?

She saw Katsuki flick his head in the direction he was headed towards, Uraraka followed and secretly appreciated the aged vintage design of Kirishima's pick-up truck.

It was old, that much was obvious by the body and the dents carved through the paint. She silently climbed into the passenger seat and thought it was strange that the front-seat of the truck was all one seat across without any gaps of separation. She wished there had been a little more room between her and the hot-head sitting not even a foot away from her. She hadn't settled completely from the, for her, major step she had taken in terms of proximity to others.

Bakugou wasn't so bad for her first time trying. He smelled kind of sweet? Which she thought was odd, but who was she to judge? She didn't smell like much of anything but booze these days anyway.

Their trip towards the address Ochako had reluctantly supplied Katsuki with, was a bit tense to put it flatly. Bakugou still seemed pretty ticked off, at what, she had no clue. Ochako wondered if he would kick her out because of all the trouble he realized it was to keep her around. Maybe he was upset for taking time out of his day off to coddle her.

That was fine if he gave her the boot, she tried to convince herself even though her heart felt strangely heavy at the consideration of leaving the cozy little flat she been staying in. She hadn't been there very long but it was better conditions than she'd had in quite some time. The door locked, and there wasn't any incessant clattering and clanking outside all night long.

"We're here." Bakugou's gruff tone pulled her out of her somewhat sullen and reminiscent thoughts, and she looked up to take in the familiar sight displayed out before them.

She didn't really care what Bakugou thought but she knew she lived in a dumpy place. Her apartment was no clean, girly palace either.

As he followed her up the stairs to the door that was still tacked with an eviction notice, she paused when her hand touched the cold steel metal of the handle.

"Bakugou…" she said slowly, her head facing forwards, her face out of his view. A sudden hesitance plaguing her as her fingers clenched tighter on the door.

"What?" he responded, intrigued by her casual demeanor until he caught a glimpse of the deadened look in Ochako's bright eyes. He saw that look a lot recently. It was like an indestructible wall was covering the swirling chocolate river that usually danced in her orbs.

"Let's get this over with quick…okay?" she said in a soft voice that almost sounded ashamed. He wanted to know what was so scary on the other side of this door.

"You got it bubble-cheeks." He answered, using sarcasm to hide his curiosity.

When Uraraka finally swung the door open, she took in the depressing scene of her old apartment with a downcast glance. She and Bakugou entered slowly, not bothering to slide off their shoes at the footstep.

She strode past the wooden picture frames filled with faces. There were old photos of her and Deku, as well as of her mother and father. She purposely looked past all of the scattered and cracked beer bottles and tipped-over wine glasses littering her floor and counter-tops.

She headed for the bedroom, not daring to look back at what she assumed would be a look filled with vulgar disgust on Bakugou's face.

Rifling through her messy closet she eventually procured a bag and then began stuffing every scrap of clothing she owned into it. She then set to work on contemplating what else in this shitty place she wanted to take out, scanning over discarded items strewn about.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was exploring the rest of the remaining ruins of Ochako's life previous to him, and their fateful encounter a few weeks ago.

She had lived in a place like this? A girl like her?

He scrutinized some family photos noting how much Ochako looked like who he assumed was her old lady. They both had the same auburn color of hair and striking brown eyes with the tell-tale pinked cheeks he liked to point out on her appearance most days.

Her old man seemed brawny and stout. He looked pretty plain, save for the goofy smile. He didn't note a lot of resemblance between him with Ochako.

Uraraka never talked about her family. He had only heard her discuss it once with Deku and the four-eyed freak, and from what he could remember of that conversation, her folks were dirt poor. No wonder, he thought, she'd had nothing to fall back on when her life went to shit.

His eyes scanned over the rest of the area surrounding him. His jaw clenched when he noticed a hand gun with bullet shells scattered around the weapon.

He thought about asking the air-headed space cadet why the hell she even had a gun to begin with, but went against it. She'd been involved in police work in a past life right?

He wasn't sure what Uraraka was doing but he figured he'd grab what he thought looked important to expedite their time in the hovel.

"Uraraka! I'm just gonna shovel some of this shit into a bag unless you got something to say about it!" he yelled out, but shrugged when he heard no reply and bent down to snatch a worn backpack off of the dirty floor.

He recognized it as her backpack from high school, there was no doubt in his mind. He remembered staring after that damn sack when she was off flirting with the nerd and four-eyes.

Those three were always so damn easy-going. It used to piss him off. But now…

He placed the picture frames and other mementos he felt Uraraka might miss inside the bag and froze when he opened a drawer and found several hand-written letters sprawled over one another inside. He glanced over his shoulder and found no sign of the brunette and then ducked back down to scan over the contents of the pages. He had a heightened awareness that what he was doing was an invasion of something personal to her.

Some were addressed to people whose names he didn't know, some he recognized were in Deku's handwriting, and one or two from the few lines he picked up seemed to be from her father. He was just about to read that particular page when he heard footsteps approach.

"What are you doing?" Bakugou tensed, and looked behind him. Uraraka stood straight, her expression a jumbled mix of anger and fear. He cursed under his breath.

"You want these right?" he asked, playing off the fact that he was just about to read the contents of the letter, holding up a few of the envelopes in his hand. She walked towards him and quickly snatched the letters out of his hand, glaring up at him.

"Get out." She said lowly, the depths of her chestnut eyes swimming in regret and sorrow.

He found himself wanting to stay by her side and understand what was in those letters that made her expression look like a crumpled piece of paper. He wanted to know if the darkness lurking around her was as black as the kind running inside his own blood. Could he get through to her?

"Get out Bakugou…please…" the shake of her voice made him angry. He didn't understand why someone would have hurt her. Ochako was like the sky. Her presence was like breezing air and her personality like light that spread over everyone endlessly.

He wanted to find whoever had stolen the sun out of her life, and left her trembling in the dark, clutching her knees to her chest and attacking anyone who came too close.

Lucky for her, he was no quitter either. He'd find a way to get over this wall she'd built.

"I'll wait outside." He relented, gritting his teeth as he turned away from her.


When Ochako finally heard the door slam shut she felt tears spring to her eyes and her skin flushed hot with abhorrence to the piece of paper in her hands. She gripped the letter Bakugou had been holding and forced herself to look down and read over the words printed in black ink.

My Sweet Ochako,

I have failed you. My little girl, I am so sorry that I couldn't protect you from the evil in the hearts of men. I should have warned you more, I should have pushed you towards a different career. Maybe then I could have made a difference in what happened to you Ochako. None of what happened is your fault. It's mine. It's all mine. Blame me. I couldn't do the one thing that as your father I should have been able to do, you have always tried to take care of me when I should have done the same for my baby girl. Ochako forgive me. I can't bear this grief. I can't do this anymore…my head is filled constantly with how much I messed up. Please take care of your mother for me I can't keep living this way…

Uraraka couldn't make out the remaining words inscribed below her, her vision was clouded with salt-laced water.

A tear drop landed on the frantically scribbled paragraph. When it did a sob choked throughout Uraraka's body as she dropped down to her knees clutching her father's last words to her firmly against her heaving chest.

"Daddy why?..." she cried out in pain, as the horror of what her own trauma had driven her father towards surged through her body. The grief compiling as memories surfaced.

She remembered coming home that day before her mom had gotten off of work. She remembered how still her father's body was as it stiffly swayed from side to side, and the bursted blood vessels in his discolored cheeks that spread upwards to his light glazed eyes, frozen open without a shred of life inside the deadened orbs.

He didn't look at all like the courageous man who had raised her.

She remembered, while trying to pull his body down how the coldness in his skin that was always so warm as she made contact with his decaying flesh caught her off guard.

The memories hurt her so much that Ochako didn't think she could bear the pain they induced. Why had she read this letter again, why did she have to be the reason that everyone in her life left her completely and utterly alone?

Why hadn't she been able to protect herself from the attack?

Hands raking over her virgin flesh, gripping and tearing at her body surfaced to the forefront of her mind as she shook. The feeling of cloth binding her wrists above her head and the damp dark room she'd been isolated in.

The blows she'd received to the face and back, how much it made her body ache.

Sounds of grunts and curses filled her ears and made her want to scream.

Why hadn't her Daddy stayed with her? He was supposed to be the one who held her when she cried and fought off all the monsters in the night time.

But now he was gone, and in the space he left the vultures of her past swooped in to tear her to shreds.

Ochako couldn't see anything as she continued to cry because of the cascade of tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

The weight of her Dad's absence drilled into her being like a hole. She felt empty, and afraid, and the pain throbbed through her stomach and down her spine. The guilt was suffocating her, and as much as she gasped for air, she couldn't take in enough to make her heart stop thrashing wildly, it was as if it was a rat in a cage trying to escape. It was all too much.

This was her fault. If she hadn't been a detective, she wouldn't have been in that drug bust. If she'd never been in that drug bust, she wouldn't have had all of her purity ripped away alongside her choice and say in what happened to her body. She hadn't even been capable of lifting a finger against the souls who dared to take her.

No one ever understood what it meant to have your freedom until it was taken away from you.

She could still, years later, feel the places and the wounds on her body that those men had left behind. She had scars to prove the things they had done to her. She could hear their resounding laughs echoing in her mind as the vision of her Dad inside a velvet lined casket surfaced to the forefront of her brain until it was all she could see.

She didn't even know she was screaming until she felt a pair of strong muscled arms wrap around her body from behind. It startled her in the catastrophic state of mind she was seeing.

"Stop! Let me go!" she fought off her attacker with everything she had, kicking and flailing to get loose. Nails out. Trying to rewrite the history of the past.

"Don't touch me! Don't do this!" she cried pathetically as she felt her body being turned around, and flashbacks ran across her lids of being pinned against a dirt floor with her legs pulled apart, spread wide for the laughing demons waiting their turn to use her, one by one, watching on in pure delight as she was defiled in so many ways that left her with an aching pain she'd never known beforehand.

Angel.

That name was cooing in her ears. The sickening amusement trilling in every syllable of the dark-eyed man's voice as she continued to fight him.

It was fitting that he had called her that as he raped her violently, her face in the dirt. She had been so pure before, everyone knew she was a good girl. It only made since that the devils around her wanted to destroy that innocence.

"Ochako!" she felt her nails rip across flesh as her name was called out loudly. She stopped her thrashing as a familiar face came into focus. Spiky blonde hair and eyes as red as blood were opened wide and staring straight at her. She felt Bakugou's hands clasped tightly around her wrists, pinning them to each side of her. He looked bewildered with concern.

"B-Bakugou…" she whimpered weakly, as she remembered where she was and what she'd been doing. She felt a warm liquid spread onto her collarbone and looked away from Katsuki's face to notice the scratch-like rips in his clothing across his left side just under his shoulder. There were scarlet droplets plipping onto her, escaping the wound she'd marked onto him. Guilt etched across her features.

"Did I…Did I do that?" she realized as her momentary reality check wavered. The overwhelming grief began to overcome her once again as tears flooded around her glistening lashes and before she could let out as much as a quivering breath she was pulled against Bakugou's chest.

She felt his arms wrapped around her shoulders and heard a gentle, deep voice whisper softly in her ear as calloused hands gripped unto her tightly.

"It's okay, it doesn't hurt. It's me, It's just me Uraraka. You're safe now. There is nobody else here, it's just me." He softness in his rough voice made her heart break. Did Katsuki see how much of a failure she was? Could he understand how worthless she was?

Why was he holding her so gently and trying to ease her suffering with sweet words?

His embrace restrained her from moving around which began to have a calming effect over her body. The words he spoke seeped deeply into her frantic thoughts and decimated the tension. And as the minutes passed by she began to feel oddly sleepy in Bakugou's arms.

He was warm, and he was right there even though her Daddy wasn't. Those men weren't anywhere near her, Bakugou said so.

"I'm not going to hurt you." That's right, she thought gratefully. He wasn't going to rape her. He wasn't one of those demons with dark eyes, right? This was just Bakugou, he was just her roommate. A boy she'd known since she was a teenager.

Her hand brushed against the sticky residue of drying blood.

But she'd still found a way to hurt him just like everyone in her life. She thought heavily.

Would he leave her now too?

"I'm sorry…" she breathed against his neck, her lips trembling.

"I'm sorry for all of the trouble I've caused…"


A/N: Lots of things today! Yes, sadly Ochako's dad did commit suicide and I felt that it was a necessary write-in for this fic. You all have learned a hair more about her tumultuous past and I hope you continue to want to find out more! Thanks for reading! Please review!