Katsuki finally made it into his own bed at around three o'clock the next morning—five hours before he had to wake up and prepare for work, seven hours before he had to be at his shop, sanitizing everything from the ceiling to the floorboards, and eight and a half hours before he was expected to open for business. Needless to say, Katsuki was more than ready to go to bed when he reached his apartment.

However, he should know better than to expect that he was actually going to sleep. As soon as he crashed into his bed, his head comfortably on the cool side of the pillow, his phone rang—a pretty picture of a pretty girl popping up on the screen. Groggily, with a little more attitude than he intended—not that he cared—he answered with a gruff, "Huh?"

"I know what you did last night," Ochako said on the other line, practically purring. "I can't say I'm surprised."

Katsuki shot up into bed, fully awake. "What?"

"I know you ran into Shoto, he's a shitty liar," Ochako said, a light laugh tickling Katsuki's ear. "I probably should've introduced you two when you saw him at the shop. I should've introduced you to my entire family when I had the chance."

"Shoto?"

"...the red headed delivery guy for my shop? I heard that he ran into you on his way to make the delivery. Wouldn't tell me anything about it, though."

Katsuki breathed a sigh of relief, and laid back down in his bed. "Yeah, now I remember. He was dropping off two flowers for Kirishima's mom."

"That's who my mystery client was?! Someone made an anonymous request for the flowers and sent that note along with it. Wouldn't it be romantic if it was a love letter?! A beautiful bouquet from a secret admirer?!"

"Yeah, real fuckin' romantic…" he sighed, rolling over under his blankets.

"Were you trying to sleep?" she asked on the other line, though it was painfully clear that she knew the answer to that. "I took you as more of a night owl. Got some good boy tendencies?"

"I'm real fuckin' tired, tonight was a fuckin' trip," he said, his voice deep and mind drifting off.

"Oh?" she practically purred, "What happened? You ran into some gangsters in a dark alley or something?" That comment made Katsuki jump up, sitting straight in his bed without a hint of a slouch in his back. A light laugh jingled through the phone that managed to both soothe and terrify him—and he liked it.

"Or something…" he answered, before adding, "Is there something you wanna talk about? I'm exhausted, Ochako."

"Yeah, actually. I left my purse this morning. I normally keep everything in my pockets so I didn't notice until about an hour ago when I got stopped trying to buy cat food. Do you have it?"

"...I fuckin' forgot about that," he admitted, slumping back down. "I got it. I can get it to you tomorrow before I open the shop, if you need it."

"How about you just come over tomorrow before we go out? We can have a few drinks...get a little comfortable…"

"Yeah," he said, sighing into his pillow. "I'll come over tomorrow." A small noise of approval rang through the phone before Ochako hung up, leaving Katsuki alone to sleep on the idea of getting comfortable with someone who was too good at guessing for his tastes.

x

The clock tick-tick-ticked its' life away on the wall, letting Katsuki know exactly how many seconds had passed between each breath he took—the answer being too many and yet not enough. Last night's exciting events left him anxious and exhausted, a combination terrible for anyone who needed a steady hand to work. The floor of his shop gleamed with water as he mopped, and the soft whir of disinfectant whistled in his ear as his apprentice, Jiro, wiped down the counters. "If you weren't just a fuckin' apprentice, I'd let you open the shop. But you're not and Eiji isn't here so I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn and do the shit with you."

"Good mornin' to you too, boss," Jiro said sarcastically.

"Why are you an apprentice anyway? You got too much talent to be doing baby shit like watching me," he continued ranting, not bothering to respond to her.

"Because I wanna learn about doin' art before I start creatin' art, y'know? Get a feel for it."

"You should be creating some dope ass shit, not watching me doodle in a sketchbook. Shit, get your own sketchbook. Doodle there."

"I have one, but ya know doodlin' and tattooin' on skin are two different lanes. I don't wanna be the reason someone's gettin' clowned on Facebook or somethin', ya know?"

The blonde popped his head up at this statement, seemingly impressed. "Is it because you care about the customers? Or because you take pride in your craft?"

"Both, I guess," the girl responded, wiping down the windows.

"You know what that gets you?"

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused. She was even more confused when she saw him grab something out of his pocket and tossed it to her. With a little fumbling, she cupped the item in her hand. She looked at it, and realized that they were a set of keys—but by the time she realized that they were, her boss was already out of the door. "The shop, I guess."

x

Katsuki laughed to himself as he left his shop in his apprentice's hands—there were no clients booked today and he was sure that Jiro could figure out everything until he or Kirishima came in. Leaving her wasn't ideal, but the kid was competent and talented as hell, she'd be fine. He walked down the street to where his car was parked—away from everyone so that nobody could hit him. He almost got mad when someone pulled up beside him, but then calmed down when his best friend hopped out.

"I've never been happy to see you," he called, rolling the window down. "Still not."

"Still a dickhead," Kirishima said, laughing. He tapped his fist against Katsuki's and asked, "Running home?"

"Yeah, man. I'm exhausted. I got into some shit last night and then Ochako tried to talk to me, I didn't get to bed until, like, four."

"Bro same!" Kirishima said, hyped up. "Someone dropped off this dog super late and it's a puppy with no fuckin' balls so I guess it's gonna stay a puppy forever? I don't know, it's weird but it looks like he's been abused and shit so he was weird as fuck. Not whiny but not like a puppy at all."

"Y'all gonna keep it?"

"My mom really likes it, so I don't really have a choice," he laughed, scratching the back of my head. "You headed home?"

"Yeah, man," Katsuki sighed, leaning his head onto the steering wheel. "For an hour or something., I left Jiro in there and she can hold down the fort, but I'm tired of all fuck right now."

"Just go home," Kirishima smiled, "It's manly enough that you even showed up today, but I got this. Don't you have a date anyway to prepare for?"

"Yeah, Ochako wants to have a couple drinks at her place before we go out—"

"—And you think y'all are still gonna make it out?" Kirishima said suggestively.

"No shit. That girl bailed on me once, she owes me a good time."

"She's not a girl...she's a woman. And women like her...don't come around too often. You lucked up."

And with that, he walked off.

x

Bakugo Katsuki was not a nervous person. Anxious? Sometimes. Angry? Most of the time. Cautious? Always. But nervous? Never. But something inside of him made his gut stir and his palms sweat as he drove down the not too familiar Tea Lane, approaching house number 15486. It seemed bigger now, the fading light of the sunset illuminating it in hues of pink and orange, creating large shadows across the lawn. The driveway was empty now, making the white pavement look bigger than he expected. Big houses were nothing new to him—his own childhood home was probably around the same size—but this big house made his stomach churn. The butterflies that he figured he was supposed to get were fighting tooth and nail to be released from their cages inside of him and he felt every moment of them plotting their escape.

But now it was too late for him to escape. Inhaling shakily, he pulled his car into the massive driveway. He was careful not to drive in the grass or hit her garage door, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't think he was too close. Carefully, he exited the vehicle and grabbed a box of chocolates he picked up on the way and walked to her door, ringing it once before hearing a thunderstorm of nonsense. Almost instantly, the nervousness faded away.

It was his time to shine.

The door swung open and he was met with a familiar face, though one he wasn't expecting to see. Standing before him was the blond man from the shop, grinning sloppily and eyes covered by blue tinted frames—though he assumed that his eyes were brown. "'Sup, bro," he said, before stepping inside, allowing him in. "You're the guy Ochako's been talkin' 'bout, right?" The blond man gave him a quick glance before locking onto the box in his hand. "Oh fuck, you bought candy? I love you, come over every motherfuckin' day—YOOOO SEROOO, 'CHAKO'S BOYFRIEND BOUGHT SNACKS!" he called into the next room, taking the candy out of his hand. Mindless chatter and nonsensical noise exploded into his eardrums, though he couldn't make the noise out.

"Can you fuckin' not yell in my face?" Katsuki barked, irritated. He stepped into the house, and a chill stole his breath away. It wasn't a particularly hot day, but the air conditioning was blasting throughout the house. He held his jacket tighter to him as he walked around, following the blond man's lead into what he presumed to be the living room. The man flopped onto the leather couch and patted the seat next to him, though Katsuki didn't sit.

"Yeah, 'Chako's got it freezin' in her today. Normally, she's too cheap to turn the damn thing on but it's a fuckin' ice box today." The chatter got louder—Katsuki knew that they were in the room next door.

"Are you gonna get Ochako? Maybe let her know I'm here?"

"She's upstairs gettin' all cute and shit—I'm not gonna rush her. But I'm gonna chat with you." His entire demeanor changed. The man sat up, hunched over but alert, the aloof playfulness completely gone from his body. "And I'd prefer it if you had a fuckin' seat and stopped disrespectin' my house." He lowered his glasses, and stared at Katsuki through yellow eyes, bloodshot and red where white should be. Scoffing, Katsuki took a seat—in a chair that faced the fireplace and not the other man in the room. "There we fuckin' go; I knew you had manners!" He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a puff quickly. "Ochako ain't my blood sister, neither of us had siblings for real. We aren't blood anythin', if I'm being real. And I know she's fuckin' gorgeous and smart and funny and all that other fuckin' womanly shit. BUt I ain't here to give you the whole 'dating-my-sister' bullshit lecture. She grown. I don't care if y'all end up fuckin'. I don't care if you fuck her and leave—I'd probably do the same shit."

"Um, what the fuck?!"

"Don't fuckin' interrupt me while I'm speaking." The room went silent. The whir of the air conditioner seemed to stop. The talking from the other room ceased. There was nothing interrupting him while he spoke. "I don't care if you dog my sister out—she's grown she'll get over it. But if she comes back from this date and one hair is out of place on her round ass head, I'll fuckin' end you. Ochako ain't the only one that gets her fuckin' hands dirty. Any questions?"

"Fuck you," Katsuki said, blowing off the threat. "I ain't a fuckin' villian. No need to get your panties in a twist."

"I'm glad we understand each other," the man said, slipping his glasses back on. He took out his phone—and a second later, Katsuki heard fumbling coming from upstairs. Less than a minute after that, Ochako came flying down the stairs, a blur of black and orange. She was barefoot, carrying a pair of orange heels in her hands, coming down the stairs with an apology getting lost in her lips and an embarrassed look playing in her eyes. Katsuki couldn't detect any makeup on her face except a soft highlighter, but being his mother's son, he knew there was more than that baked on. His eyes trailed down to her dress, a soft black that would've shown cleavage had she taken off the orange jacket—probably the jacket she bought to match her shoes—and the dress clung to her figure without a wrinkle. "You look beautiful, darling!" her brother said, enveloping her in a not-too-consensual hug.

"Denki!" she almost yelled, "Why didn't you mention he was here earlier?!"

"Women always need an extra five minutes, I kept him company," he excused himself, his goofy smile returning to his face.

"Forgive him," she said, turning towards Katsuki, "he's probably high." Denki looked offended for a moment, but then shrugged and wrapped his 'sister' in another hug. This time she relented, wrapping her arms around him, careful not to hit him with her shoes. "I'll go get some drinks!" she suggested, setting her shoes down and walking towards the kitchen, and then disappearing behind a wall.

Denki plopped down on the air of Katsuki's seat, a happy sigh leaving his happy body. "I am high as fuck right now—but I'll smoke you too."

She returned with two bottles—one full of red wine and the other vodka. "If we drink this," she said, waving the wine bottle, "we can still go out and have a really good time. But if we drink this," she waved the vodka, "then we can go to the kitchen and mix up some drinks and have a really good time—just us."

"You trying to get out of dinner? Your brother did mention you were a cheapskate," Katsuki laughed, taking the wine from her and pouring her a glass.

"Is that all he said?" she asked, her voice small.

"No—but I don't kiss and tell." She laughed—and it was good, he liked her laugh. "But I'm fuckin' starving and you're paying."

"And I'm driving—"

"—Says who?"

"Oh baby," she said, cupping his face, "I always drive."

x

The restaurant was in a part of town Katsuki had never been—the expensive part. Truthfully, the only time he'd been in places like this were when he travelled with his parents, and even then they were told to keep their heads down and eyes peeled. After parking the car a considerable distance from the restaurant, Ochako talked and laughed and walked like she owned the place—and the scared looks from passersby on the street made it feel like she ruled, too. She was comfortable, walking down the street in bright heels, laughing loudly at his jokes that couldn't have been that funny, holding a designer purse by her pinkie. If she were anybody else, he'd think that she was dumb—setting herself up to be an easy target. She was too loud, too bright, too flashy—something could happen.

But she wasn't anybody else—she was Ochako Uraraka. And she was not dumb—she was calculated. She knew that nobody would dare try anything, so she didn't fear. Katsuki didn't know if he should be fearful, though.

They walked into the restaurant and immediately the host's eyes lit up when he saw Ochako. After a quick kiss on the cheek, the two were seated at a candle-lit table in the middle of the restaurant—skipping the line of customers that trailed out of the door. "I thought you said you were poor," Katsuki teased, looked around the restaurant with wide eyes. The ceiling was high above him, decorated in chandeliers that twinkled dimly. The windows were wide, but covered in thin drapes that let in little starlight. There was soft music playing by some artist that he didn't care to know. Even the floor seemed to sparkle as wealthy patrons waltzed through.

"I grew up poor," she said, watching him with a glow so soft, it was almost invisible. "When my parents died, the only thing that they could leave me was an old station wagon that didn't have heat. I was four, so I couldn't drive it, though."

"You're not poor now," he replied.

"No...I guess I'm not," she mused, "Daddy taught me how to save...how to build and invest. He really wanted me to be able to take care of my brother. Live a life we never had, I suppose. He..." she trailed off, and shook her head.

"What is it?"

"Nothing...just...I know he'd be proud of the people we became."

"And who...are you?"

"You don't know by now?" she laughed, taking a sip of water. "I thought we were really getting somewhere."

"There's...a lot of things I hear about you," he started, and then he realized that he shouldn't have started this particular conversation.

"Like?"

"Like things that...don't add up." Shit, wrong move. "I mean they do, but it's all really convenient. Like ridiculously convenient."

"I'm not following," she said, a small laugh following. It was nervous—something he'd never seen from her before. He shouldn't push it. He shouldn't push it. He likes her. She's smart. She's funny. She's beautiful. She's confident. She doesn't make sense. She makes too much sense. He shouldn't push it. She's nervous. He's onto something.

"You run a flower shop—a really successful one—but it's not a chain or franchise. It's one shop. And your house is worth millions of dollars. I know your outfit is all designer and worth thousands. Your car is ridiculous. You're so confident in this area—it's not making sense with one shop."

She did something he didn't expect her to do—she laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh, complete with a wide smile. "Katsuki...you're used to this. You know that sometimes, you can pull yourself out of the mud and get somewhere you'd never thought you'd be."

"I know that a lot of people in this area—" he gestured around them, "are too good to be true. They're killers and gangsters and…"

"And can hear you!" Ochako said, shushing him gently.

"I just don't want you to be something different than what I know you as. Than what you are. You're just so perfect right now—it's unrealistic."

"I'm real," she assured, grabbing his hand. "I'm real...and I'm not perfect. My imperfections outweigh everything...I'm not ready to show you that yet. I wanna stay perfect to you." She caressed it lightly, pressing it against her face.

"Have you two finished looking over your menus?" the waiter asked, sneaking up on them silently. "Find anything delicious, Ochako?"

Ochako glanced up at the use of her name, and her face flushed. She exhaled a small, "Shit…" underneath her breath before shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. "Katsuki, we have to leave, right now," she said, lowly. She glanced up at the waiter again, who gave a sick grin at her. The light caress on Katsuki's hand became a tight hold.

"Chisaki wouldn't want you going too far…" the waiter hummed, cracking that sick smile at Katsuki.

"Good thing he can't speak to me," Ochako said, standing up and pushing the waiter out of the way.

"What's going on?" Katsuki asked, before being dragged away from the table. Ochako excused her way through the crowd of staff and customers, pulling Katsuki by the hand. She kept her head down, and Katsuki followed suit, opting to ask no more questions. Her grip became tighter as each second passed by, to the point where she was squeezing him, the blood in his veins almost unable to pump. Muttering excuses, she weaved their way through the crowds until they met with an important looking person in a black suit, who only nodded at her. She bowed her head quickly before sneaking off behind him and disappearing out of the backdoor, bringing Katsuki with her.

"I'm sorry—I'll explain everything in the car but we have to get out of here," Ochako said once they were outside. Katsuki dropped her hand and opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words. His red eyes narrowed at her—and he could feel the guilt radiating off of her in waves. She took his hand again, but he fought it—shaking it off.

"Who are you?!" he screamed, his eyebrows furrowed.

"She's the bitch that killed my boss," a voice said from the shadowing, grabbing Ochako from behind and slamming her into the side of the restaurant. Katsuki jumped to grab her, but the man who grabbed her pulled out a knife and held it to the side of her face. "If I even fuckin' think you move, I'll cut her throat right here, right now." He pressed the knife against her harder, blood trickling out of the wound and a nasty bruise forming on the other side of her face. She didn't cry out, but he could swear he heard her heart beating out of it's chest. Her head lolled to the side but she made an effort to look at Katsuki, and silently apologized.

"We don't want any trouble—what do you want?" Katsuki said, slowly raising his hands.

"I wanna get paid—and there's a couple people offering lots of money for this bitch. And since she killed my fuckin' employer...I think I should cash out." The man moved the knife from her face to her neck, standing her up. She fumbled in her heels, but somehow managed to stand. "Nothing's gonna compare to what Chisaki paid...but I'll manage."

Chisaki...Katsuki knew that name. And suddenly, it all made sense. "Chisaki...he's a loan shark, right?"

"He's more than a loan shark!" the man barked, "He's fuckin' yakuza! She's one too!" he said, pressing his knife into her throat and releasing his grip on her to grab her jacket and pull it, ripping it from the seam. With the sleeve gone, Katsuki could see another sleeve—one inked into her skin. There was a butterfly, dancing down her arm in vivid green that met a vibrant red dragon who wrapped around her elbow, it's tail soaking in a bright blue pond filled with yellow fish at her wrist. Clouds covered any part of her arm that was untouched by ink. He had seen the design before—in Kirishima's sketchbook. Hell, he even proposed the color of the dragon. "Your little girlfriend's a fucking gangster!" She looked at him, her eyes soft, apologetic, before narrowing, hardening. She glanced up at her captor before looking back at Katsuki.

"Just let her go and we can talk this out," Katsuki said, glancing at Ochako and then back to the man. "You need a job, right? We've got hella money. Clean money." Ochako smiled at him, and a familiar, threatening glint hit her eyes.

"There ain't enough money in the world to—"

"Suit yourself!" Ochako screamed before slamming her heel into the man's foot, pulling his arm away from her neck. The loud crunch of the man's bones assured everyone behind the restaurant that they were, indeed, broken. Quickly, she slipped out of his hold and bent his arm back, using his own knife to stab him twice in the side. She held onto his arm bent it as far back as it would go and then kicked him in the back, a sick sound emerging from the man's arm socket. With a hard shove, she pushed the man into the same wall she was slammed into, stunning him. "Katsuki!" she called, "Run and I'll catch up!"

Katsuki could barely hear her. He had never seen anyone move like this—he never thought anyone could move like that. She moved quickly, deliberately—she'd been in this situation before. She knew that she didn't have time to waste. She'd been here before. She stabbed him. She was dangerous. She stabbed him. She was dangerous. She was a gangster.

He likes her.

He was screwed.